


Another Friggin' Town Festival

by DonaldFDraper, MistressPandora



Category: Gilmore Girls, Supernatural
Genre: Case Fic, Crossover, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-14
Updated: 2017-02-28
Packaged: 2018-09-24 06:06:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 24,023
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9706403
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DonaldFDraper/pseuds/DonaldFDraper, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MistressPandora/pseuds/MistressPandora
Summary: Stars Hollow doesn't even have a police department. In 2009, when three people go missing and bodies start turning up, a pair of FBI agents come to town to investigate. The citizens of Stars Hollow find one of the agents to be strangely familiar and the agents find the town to just be strange.





	1. Chapter 1

A blue Prius eased into the driveway connected to a picturesque house frosted with snow. The February stillness was broken only by the car’s tires crunching over the gravel until a wordless squeal rang out from the house and Lorelai Gilmore dashed out in her pajamas. “Rory!” she shouted. Lorelai was a tall and slender woman just approaching middle age, with dark brown hair and striking blue eyes. Thanks to winning some sort of genetic lottery, she still appeared a decade younger than reality, gentle laugh lines around her eyes only adding to her natural beauty rather than suggesting any kind of maturity.

The driver, a younger woman, threw open the door of the Prius, all but leaping out of the driver’s seat and into Lorelai’s arms. “Mom!” The two clung to each other, the kind of embrace shared after several months apart. Rory was nearly a clone of her mother, a bit shorter but with the same stunning combination of bright eyes and dark hair that pulled at the heartstrings of many a man.

“You need to tell me everything that you saw,” Lorelai said, voice shaking in the cold. “Did you get it to her? Did you get the Pop Tarts to Michelle? Did she love them?” She wrapped an arm around her daughter’s shoulders, guiding her into the house.

“Mom, did you honestly think that I would be able to get anything to Michelle Obama without being tackled by big, burly Secret Service men?” Rory countered with a smile. “I mean, she just became the First Lady….”

“Yeah but who doesn’t love Pop Tarts?” Lorelai retorted, “There’s the strawberry ones, the s'mores ones that have the chocolate icing on it, and--” Lorelai gasped, “You didn’t offer her the classic brown sugar.”

“I got her strawberry, the ones you gave me.”

“How foolish of me, to send my daughter to one of the most important people in the world without brown sugar Pop Tarts? Those things could make peace in the middle east if they didn’t already arrive toasted.” The pair ascended the porch steps, still debating the relative merit of Pop Tarts. They closed the door behind them as an older car rumbled to a stop on the side of the road in front of the house.

 

 

*          *          *

 

“Oh, come on, Dean,” said the tall man climbing out of the classic impala. “It’s your turn to hit the morgue.” He easily ghosted just under six and a half feet tall, dressed in a simple, black, off-the-rack suit that he buttoned while his companion came around the front of the car to meet him on the sidewalk.

Dean, a few inches shorter and similarly dressed, didn’t pause on his way towards the quaint, suburban house, letting the taller man fall into step beside him. “What do you mean it’s my turn? What are you, twelve? Sam, you’re better at that crap than me. Besides,” he said as they approached the door, “I’m better at getting intel from the locals.”

“That ‘crap’ is called science, dude.” Dean scoffed at Sam’s remark. “And by ‘getting intel’ you mean picking up waitresses at the local watering hole.”

Dean didn’t bother to hide his smirk as he rang the doorbell. He schooled his features into a look of friendly professionalism, reaching into his inside jacket pocket.

 

*          *          *

 

The two women sat on a beige couch in a homey living room, legs crossed under them as they faced each other, eagerly chattering away.

“So, the Inauguration was amazing. They had a special set of bleachers for the press and, I mean I wasn’t one of the important ones like Christiane Amanpour, but I saw it all on a big screen and Yo-Yo Ma was--”

The doorbell rang, cutting into the conversation. Lorelai turned her head to the door. “You didn’t forget anyone, did you?”

“If that’s a coy way of asking if I have a boyfriend, it’s a no. Work has been crazy, just constantly---”

“No, it wasn’t.” Lorelai smiled, trying to hold back a laugh. “That answers that question but I wasn’t asking it, at least not there.” She frowned a bit at the thought but stood up. “Maybe it’s Luke, he said he might be having some free time this afternoon…”

“Oh yeah?” Rory responded, seeing her mom cross the room to the foyer. “So, you two are still…?”

“And you’re the one complaining about leading questions!” Lorelai turned as she reached the front door, laughing. “It’s like--” Lorelai stopped abruptly, eying the two men in front of her. Her gaze settled instantly on the taller man. “Dean, what’s up? Who’s this?”

The taller man cocked his head to the side, mouth slightly ajar and eyebrows high. The shorter one had a hand raised and appeared to be about to answer but stopped, lips pursed, apparently realizing that the woman wasn’t addressing him. The silence stretched on, punctuated only by a couple of low monosyllables from the two men, the men exchanging a couple looks of unadulterated confusion. “Ah…..” Almost in unison, they displayed FBI badges. The taller one recovered first and introduced himself. “I’m agent Lee, this is my partner Agent Sixx. I’m sorry, have we met?”

“Look, Dean, it takes a lot of balls for you to come here and just pretend that nothing ever happened. Who is this? A cousin?” Lorelai responded, blue eyes aflame with anger. “Agent Lee? What are you up to Dean?”

Rory dashed to the door. “What about Dean?” The younger woman looked up at the taller man. Her once open face turned hard and firm. “Oh, what are you doing here?” Her voice had gone quiet, diminutive, her joy lost upon seeing an old flame again.

Both men took a step back from the bubbling hostility in the doorway, eyes wide and arms spread in what could only be described as confused surrender. “Uhh…” the taller one repeated eloquently.

The shorter man's green eyes flashed in the faintest display of frustration as he hooked a thumb at his own chest. “I'm Dean. The attractive one?” He gestured at his partner indignantly. “The gargantuan is Sam.”

“Yeah,” said Sam-not-Dean quickly, eyes darting between the women in front of him. “We're investigating a disappearance. Edwin Roberts down the street?”

“So, you're Sam Lee and Dean Sixx?” Lorelai asked. “Not Dean Forester and… Some random cousin?” Lorelai flicked her hand up towards Dean. She looked at Rory, yanking her out of her reverie. “Did Dean mention any male cousins or something?”

“Uh, not that I know, he doesn't really know his extended family and….” She looked up at Agent Lee. “He has a different haircut; he never let his hair out that much.”

Agent Lee looked at his shoes, lips downturned into a puppy dog frown while Sixx grinned up at him.

“Uh huh.” Lorelai kept on staring at Sam. “Sam Lee… And Dean Sixx? Not Tommy and Nikki?”

Agent Sixx’s grin broke into a short chuckle and he shoved his hands into his pockets. “No ma'am, but you are the first person today to ask us that.”

“Could we maybe come in, ma’am?” Lee asked, pointedly ignoring the shorter man next to him. “It’s pretty cold out here.”

Lorelai looked at her daughter, still trying to protect her. Rory nodded, climbing out of her shell. “It's not Dean, he never complained about the cold that quickly.” Lorelai nodded and pointed them to the nearby living room adjacent to the foyer.

“If she says you're not Dean,” Lorelai reasoned, still looking at Agent Lee, “then you're not Dean.” She stepped aside as they entered. “You said Edwin Roberts, right?”

“That's right,” Agent Lee answered. “His wife reported him missing two days ago. Have you heard anything?”

“Edwin Roberts…” Lorelai sat on the couch while Rory picked up her bags and mounted the stairs. “Uh, no. They moved here a couple of months ago, they used to work in Hartford but moved here to retire because it’s much more relaxed out here. None of that hustle and bustle you get in the big cities.” Lorelai laughed but the two men didn’t react. “Well I haven’t seen him of late, no.”

Agent Sixx narrowed his eyes from his position leaning casually against the wall. The agents had all but surrounded her, Agent Lee sitting on the couch, forcing Lorelei to turn her head. “No, you wouldn't, would you?” Sixx answered. “Hence the missing person investigation.”

Lee shot his partner a warning glare with a firm jaw. “Do you know what he did in Hartford? Where he retired from?”

“I don’t know, I remember he said he did... he seemed to know how to do handiwork.” Lorelai said, scratching her head. “I think he said something about a hardware store or something.” She shrugged. “He’s only been here a bit, although if you want anything, you go to Patty, she runs Miss Patty’s School of Ballet. Every piece of gossip goes through her.”

Agent Lee nodded and jotted something down in a tiny notepad that suddenly appeared in his hands. Agent Sixx had pushed away from the wall and was circling around to face Lorelai, though he didn’t sit. “Do you know of any enemies he might have had? Anyone who would want to hurt him?”

“No, I know that, you don’t really make enemies here in Stars Hollow. You might make Taylor angry but the worst thing he’d do is come up with some nonsense reason for you to contribute time at the next festival we’re scheduled to do, and we have one like, every… two weeks.”

“That’s how we do it in Stars Hollow,” Rory added as she came back down the stairs. “A party every other week where we do something for the town.” She walked slowly down and stopped in the middle of the staircase. “Plus, Taylor is a pushover, he’s not bad.”

“Sorry, who’s Taylor?” Agent Lee asked.

“Taylor is the Town’s Selectsman,” Lorelai said. “He sorta runs the town but isn’t the mayor or anything. I don’t… think…”

“We haven’t had a mayoral election because no one wants to do it. Taylor does basically all the major work for the city; he runs the Historical Committee, he runs the weekly meetings where everyone sorta comes to debate business,” Rory explained.

“Yeah, we don’t really do proper government. New England tradition type of thing,” Lorelai offered.

Agent Lee scribbled in his notepad again. Sixx’s eyes softened into something less hostile but still pretty intense when he asked, “Anything strange there? Sudden rises to power or insane bouts of good luck?”

“Nope, not that I know of. I mean, Rory’s back,” Lorelai responded.

“I’m back!” Rory nearly yelled.

Agent Lee flashed Rory a bright smile and shut his notepad, stuffing it into a pocket. “Where are you coming back from?”

“DC. I was covering the Inauguration of President Obama for my job. I’m a journalist but I have a book or two in mind.” She shrugged, the smile causing her to wince a bit.

The taller man raised his eyebrows, clearly impressed. “Oh cool! I bet that was quite an experience. You know, I’d love to hear all about it sometime.” He pulled a business card out of his pocket and handed it over to Rory, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “Give me a call later and you can tell me all about it.”

Agent Sixx clapped his partner on the shoulder and turned toward the door. “Or, you know, if you think of anything that might be useful to our investigation because we’re professionals,” he said with a pointed stare at Agent Lee.

Rory gave the card to her mom, shrinking away from the scene. “That sounds great,” Lorelai forcefully enunciated each word, looking at the card. “I’m sorry we couldn’t be much help right now but I’m sure that if you talk to Miss Patty, she’ll give you everything that the town has found out.” Lorelai rose and walked to the foyer. “However, if you need any help, I’m Lorelai Gilmore, I run the local Inn.” She pulled out a card from her jeans and hands it to Agent Sixx. “If you tell Michel that you’re here figuring out why Edwin Roberts is gone. If he gives you lip, and he will because he’s French, tell him to call me and he’ll stop complaining and just mutter instead.”

Sixx tapped the card and smiled kindly at Lorelai. “Well that solves our next mystery: where to stay in this one-horse town. Thank you very much for your time.” He nodded once and headed out of the door. Agent Lee dragged his eyes away from where Rory had disappeared, smiled at Lorelai, and muttered his thanks.

As they made their way back to the behemoth of a car, Lorelai called after them “We have two horses at the Dragonfly Inn, so we’re not just a one-horse town!” She closed the door and sighed. Turning to her daughter, Lorelai said, “That wasn’t Dean, or rather it wasn’t your Dean.”

“He’s not my Dean.” Rory countered. “But he looks so much like him…”

“And he likes you too.”

“God, please don’t… I still don’t want to… not after Logan.” Rory’s voice disappeared towards the end, the past slowly creeping up.

“No, no I understand.” Lorelai looked at the card. “I’ll hold on to this, but not for us, but for Edwin.”

“Was he a good guy?” Rory said, her voice returning slowly.

“He was quiet, he and his wife didn’t really get out. I don’t think I even saw them at Doose’s more than… five times…” Lorelai said with a sigh.

“Well, I… I think I need to talk to Paris.” Rory said, “I… need her to help process this, we’re too close.” Rory headed toward her room, turning back once to add in a shocked voice, “he looked just like Dean.”.

 

*           *           *

 

Lounging on her bed a few minutes later, Rory scrolled through her phone and pressed the contact link for Paris Gellar. After a few rings, Paris picked up. “Hey, what’s up?”

“The… _strangest_ thing has happened,” Rory said. “You remember Dean, my first boyfriend… the one that I… Yeah.”

“Yeah…. Usually the mental picture of him in my mind is accompanied with the placard reading ‘cheating douchebag.’” Paris Gellar’s was just the voice Rory needed. While her mother was a strong and kind voice, she needed the dead-inside-sarcasm of her best friend.

“Well, I just got home and was talking to my mom about the Inauguration when the doorbell rings and there are these two men here to investigate the disappearance of someone who just settled in Stars Hollow.” After a short pause, Rory continued, “But one, this one tall, but not gangly… he was the spitting image of Dean.”

“As in he looked exactly like Dean? Like if he had an illegitimate love child-”

“He wouldn’t even need a DNA test because he could have been a twin!” Rory exclaimed, finishing her friend’s sentence.

“Are you sure he doesn’t have a twin or something?” Paris asked, surprised at the existence of two Deans.

“It must be a secret twin, but if that's true, then which one is the secret twin.”

Paris didn't respond right away, leaving Rory to wonder if her friend believed her. “Did he have any noticeable scars or a strange and extreme accent?”

“Uh, no. I mean, I don't think so, I haven't spoken to Dean in years. Not since--”

“He rowed away in his douche canoe?”

“That’s a way of putting it.” Rory sighed, she loved her friend but Paris never held back.

“So, what are you going to do? I mean, you’re still recovering from Logan.”

“Yeah, I wasn’t gonna call him. I mean, I’ve just been focusing on work and I have a couple of novel ideas…”

“So then don’t worry about it, let him clumsily hit on you, let him just waste his energy.”

“He should be focusing on his case anyway,” Rory added. “I mean, he doesn’t need distractions and I certainly don’t.”

“Yeah? You’re still working on it?”

“Not so much, he… I wouldn’t have been able to do anything, I’m not a trophy wife.”

“Yeah, you’re not…” Paris laughed, “Anyway, let’s have lunch, while Yale medical is hard, everyone’s still a child and are boring.”

“Sure, tomorrow?”

 

*           *           *

 

“Dude, seriously?” Dean demanded of Sam as they turned down the sidewalk and approached the next house, directly across the street from Edwin Roberts’ residence.

Sam slid his hands in his pockets and stepped over a chunk of snow in the middle of the path. “What?”

“You were hitting on that girl.”

“I was not!”

Dean stopped suddenly and gaped at his companion. “Oh please, Sam. Look who you’re talking to.” Sam just scoffed and turned his back on Dean, who took a couple fast steps to catch up with the taller man’s enormous stride. “Seriously, man, it’s bad news. Or did you not see that epic case of mistaken identity?”

“I wasn’t hitting on her, Dean,” Sam said with an exasperated sigh.

“Whatever you say, Sammy, but I’m telling you, you’ve got an evil twin running around somewhere breaking hearts. Specifically, _that_ heart.” The men climbed the steps to the next house on their list and reached for the doorbell. “Try to keep it in your pants this time, okay, Casanova?” he muttered.

Sam glared down at Dean, quickly replacing it with a gentle smile as an older gentleman came to the door. “Can I help you?”

The two men flashed their badges, again introducing themselves as agents. The homeowner invited them in right away, appearing eager to help.


	2. Chapter 2

“That had to be the nicest, least helpful nosy neighbor of all time,” Dean complained. He parked the impala at the inn Lorelai Gilmore had recommended, swinging the door shut as he rose from the driver’s seat.

Sam blew out a breath, eyebrows approaching his hairline. “Who keeps binoculars on their coffee table and sees literally nothing?”

Dean shook his head. “I dunno, man. But it’s been a long day. I just want to change clothes and grab a beer. We’ll hit the morgue tomorrow.”

The Dragonfly Inn began its life as a massive house with a wraparound porch. Inside the renovations were a little more apparent, though still discreet. To the left of the door sat a desk and to the right was an inviting parlor with a few cozy chairs. Beyond that lay the dining room with several tables elegantly set for breakfast, lunch, or dinner.

The pair glanced around them and nodded in appreciation before strolling to the desk and smiling at the man behind it. His eyes remained fixed on the appointment book in front of him, flipping a page every so often.

The men exchanged pointed looks, smiles falling away to expressions of vague annoyance. Dean rapped his knuckles on the desk sharply, forcing a too-bright smile that didn't touch his eyes. “Hi,” Dean said sharply.

“Do you ‘ave an appointment?” the man said, not bothering to look up.

All remnants of Dean’s smile faded at the attitude. “No, we don’t have a reservation,” he said, dropping in a healthy drawl of American superiority.

“Uh huh,” The man finally deigned to look up. “A bed for two? We have a Queen available,” he said. “Not the band, that’s the bed size, I know that some people confuse them.”

Dean threw his hands up in clear exasperation, giving Sam a helpless look. “Why does this always happen?” He turned back to the French guy. “No, a double.” He held up two fingers. “That’s two beds, in case you’re confused.”

“Well, this is a bed and breakfast, we don’t discriminate against anyone, regardless of what they like. At the moment, we do not have two-bed rooms. There’s a family from Georgia that’s brought their brats,” he added, disdain practically dripping from every word. He returned his attention to his appointment book and a computer to the side, tapping a few keys. “You can have a queen or the Honeymoon suite, which is a king.”

Dean pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, eyes closed. “Okay, Sam, you’re up.”

Sam swallowed down a glare that would have been completely unhelpful. “How about a room with a sofa or a pull-out?”

“Do you think we’re a Super Eight? This is a proper bed and breakfast, couples from all over the country come ov’r here to ride the horsies and enjoy the autumn colores. No, we don’t have a pull-out bed.”

“Nothing wrong with a simple ‘no,’” Dean muttered, mopping a hand over his jaw.

The man spun around to retrieve a key from the wall. “Room 205. No, we don’t have pornography and no, I will not find you a companion. Good day.”

“No problem, brought my own porn,” Dean announced, clearly pleased with his quip.

This time Sam did shoot Dean a withering glare and accepted the key, turning on his heel with a huff. “Dude, you had better be joking,” he said when they were mostly out of earshot. Dean just chuckled as he opened the trunk of the impala to grab their duffel bags.

The two men had barely reentered the inn when a short, heavyset woman in an apron rushed over and crowded Sam into a corner. “Dean Forester, what are you doing here? You know you shouldn’t be… here.”

“Uh….” Sam said, eyes sweeping around him for an exit. Dean was several paces away, watching the exchange with an eyebrow raised, looking entirely too amused. “No, ma’am, you’ve got the wrong guy. I’m Sam.” This was going to get exhausting really fast.

“Dean, look I know that basically the entire town hates you for hurting Rory and I mean, if it weren’t for Lorelai, I would have put laxative in your food anytime I could because... Wait, Sam… Are you a twin or something? You look exactly… the same.” The woman took a step back. Pointing two fingers to her eyes and flicked them back at Sam, she warned, “I’m watching you… not-Dean, Sam. You hurt that girl, I’m… making sure that I use cream in your white sauces.” The woman bumped into a table as she backed off, fixing it quickly before scurrying away.

Sam’s shoulders slumped and Dean didn’t bother hiding his amusement. “Shut up, jerk,” Sam said when the short woman finally relinquished his personal space.

“Bitch,” Dean retorted, mounting the stairs and chuckling. “Yeah, this job is gonna be fun.”

Sam scoffed. “Yeah, speak for yourself.”

 

*         *         *

 

“So, get this,” Sam said from his seat at the modest table, a pile of case files open and scattered in front of him. “Edwin Roberts, Tara Quinn, and Maxwell Young were all small business owners in Hartford who retired here within the past year. You know, if that didn’t triple the number of disappearances this town has had in total over the last…ever…we wouldn’t even be here.”

Dean sat on the damn single bed, leaning against the headboard with the laptop open on his lap. Both men had shed their jackets and ties and Dean had taken off his shoes because he’s not a heathen. “Witches maybe?”

Sam winced. “Maybe, but I didn’t find any hex bags in Edwin Roberts’ house.” The pair fell into silence for a few minutes. “I don’t know, man, I really hate to say it, but it’ll be easier to come up with a theory if we had all three bodies. I don’t think we’re going to get much off of Maxwell Young’s body when we go to the morgue tomorrow.”

The only immediate reply he offered was a displeased grunt. After a few minutes Dean shook his head and shut the computer with a huff. “Okay, we can’t do anymore tonight and I’m starving. We need to see a corpse to get a lead.” He opened up his duffel bag and pulled out some casual clothes, unbuttoning his white dress shirt. “Come on, Sammy. Let’s go see what the nightlife looks like in this town.”

Sam arched a skeptical eyebrow and dug out a change of clothes for himself. “It’s probably going to look like a funeral home. I get the feeling the sidewalks roll up at 7 pm around here.”

 

*         *          *

 

Dean and Sam sat at the only bar in Stars Hollow. Sam was right, the place was totally deserted save for a couple who looked like they were on a date and the obligatory drunk that seems to hold down the bar in every small town in America. The bartender delivered their beers with a pleasant smile that Dean returned with a wink which had the pretty brunette blushing as the drunk flagged her down.

Dean’s gaze scanned the small room, returning to his glass when nothing interesting caught his eye. Sam ran his fingers over the condensation on his glass, looking lost in thought. Dean kicked his shin lightly. “Sammy, you’re not sitting there pining away over that Rory girl, are you?”

Sam shot him a scowl that was just south of a bitch face and north of pouty. Maybe it was a pouty bitch face. “No.”

“Liar,” Dean scoffed. “Even after that crazy lady threatened you--because apparently, your evil twin is also lactose intolerant--you’re still looking to hit that?”

Sam rolled his eyes. “Who even talks like that?”

“Me,” he answered with a grin. “Hey, I bet you twenty bucks I can get that bartender's number before we order the third round.”

“Let me slow down for you then,” Sam said, pushing his drink away.

Dean feigned offense and drained his beer so he had an excuse to flag the bartender down for a refill. He scooted down a handful of stools to chat her up while she pulled back on the tap handle. “So, is it always so quiet in here?” he asked with his most charming smile pasted on his face.

His efforts didn’t go unnoticed. “In the middle of the week it is,” she answered. “Why, aren’t used to the small-town vibe?”

Dean straightened, squaring his shoulders. “Oh no, I love the small town feel, don’t get me wrong. This is just…” he paused and took in the entire bar with a sweep of his eyes. “This is just like small town level expert.”

The bartender chuckled while she wiped down the perfectly clean bar. Dean offered his hand. “I’m Dean,” he said while she shook his hand with a polite smile.

“Lily.”

“Lily.” He repeated her name like he was trying it out on his tongue. “One of my favorite flowers.” Another wink and a small grin had Lily dipping her head to avert her eyes. Dean leaned over the bar so he could lower his voice, going in for the kill. “You know, the only thing I don’t like about small towns is how lonely they are at night.” Lily’s hand with the rag froze in its path across the bar again and Dean knew he had her. “Especially in the winter, when it’s dark and cold.” Lily might have shivered just a little. “There’s more… action… in the city at night. I love to wake up in a small town, but cities are my favorite place to go to bed.” Dean tilted his head to catch Lily’s blue eyes and licked his lips just a tiny bit, his smile going just a little lopsided when she noticed. “Where’s your favorite place to fall asleep, Lily?”

The bartender stood up straight, pulling away with a brilliant smile. “On my girlfriend’s couch after a CSI marathon,” she said at a normal volume and turned to refill the drunk’s beverage and offer to call him a cab.

Dean frowned into his beer and slunk back to his seat next to Sam who was gasping for breath between gales of laughter. “Dude, that was brutal!”

“Shut up,” Dean growled, taking a long pull from his glass and refusing to look at Sam’s big, dumb face.

“Oh man. Epic crash and burn, Dean. No survivors!” Sam didn’t seem to care that the other three patrons were staring. “I can’t remember the last time I saw you strike out that fast! Pay up, man.”

Dean threw a twenty at Sam’s head. “Bitch.” Sam was too busy laughing his ass off to banter back.

 

*         *         *

 

The police officer serving as the Stars Hollow sheriff du jour directed Sam and Dean to the morgue in Farmington, CT. They parked the impala in a space marked “Visitors” and strolled through the front doors like they owned the place. They displayed their FBI credentials with the postures of men accustomed to being in charge and were ushered down to the morgue to meet with the medical examiner. Their steps faltered when they strode through the vault-like door and were greeted with the sound of polka music. They were used to hearing music playing in morgues, usually something upbeat or with a steady rhythm. They exchanged glances with arched eyebrows and seemed to be in agreement: this was definitely a new one.

“Hello?” Sam called. A small man scampered around the corner. He was dressed in green scrubs and a white lab coat with embroidered script over the pocket indicating his name to be Dr. Margarine. He had wild, mousey brown hair and was wearing honest-to-God bunny slippers.

“Wait, wait!” the little guy shouted over a particularly grating tuba solo, shuffling to a desk and turning down the volume. The polka shrank to a soft throb and Dr. Margarine turned back to the pair, fidgeting with the drawstring of his scrub pants. “C-can I help you?”

They presented their badges. “Agents Lee and Sixx,” Sam said by way of introduction. “We’re here about Maxwell Young. Stars Hollow PD said his body was brought here?”

The medical examiner muttered to himself and spun around as if he couldn’t exactly recall where he put the body. “Ah, yes. Follow me, please,” he said finally and scampered off the way he’d come.

Dean blew out a breath, eyes wide, and gave Sam the universal hand signal for no please, after you. Sam rolled his eyes and skulked after the ME. Dr. Margarine hummed to himself in front of the wall of coolers, finally settling on one with an excited, “Aha!” He opened the door and dragged out a table. Removing the sheet revealed the body of a man in his sixties. Along with the typical Y-shaped incision in the torso where several short clusters of not-so-typical gashes. They were clean but clearly deep into the man’s flesh, and as Sam gave the corpse a once-over he noted that the gashes were also up the victim’s neck and face. The mortician would have some work to do if the family wanted an open casket.

“Cause of death?” Sam asked, pulling a latex glove onto his right hand.

“Blood loss,” the ME answered, pointing to the deepest wounds over the jugular and wrists.

Sam nodded, gingerly spreading some of the gashes on the victim’s chest. “Anything missing from the body?”

“Pardon?” Dr. Margarine squeaked out. “Um. A lot of blood?”

“I meant organs, body parts, that kind of thing,” Sam said

The little medical examiner had gone particularly pale and might have been trembling just a little. “W-why would something be missing?”

“Trophies,” Dean interjected, drawing the ME’s attention away from Sam and the body. “Was the guy missing, say, his heart?”

“Uh, no. Well, I mean…” Dr. Margarine indicated a large container between the victim’s ankles. “It’s in there now. I needed to look for signs of heart failure.”

Sam had his gloved fingers in the corpse’s mouth now. “Did you find any?”

The little man shook his head. “N-no. His heart was really healthy for a guy his age. Just the leaks he’d sprung.”

Dean snorted, shrugging when Sam shot him a glare. The taller man pulled off his glove and threw it away. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a business card, which he passed to the ME. “Please give us a call if you find anything else. Thanks for your time.”

Back in the car, Dean counted on his fingers. “So it’s not a witch because we didn’t find hex bags. It’s not a vampire because the body wasn’t totally exsanguinated. It’s not a werewolf because our guy wasn’t heartless. There’s no local lore to point to vengeful spirits, no sulfur for demons, and no humans have killed each other in this town in… ever. I don’t get it, what the hell is it?”

Sam blew out a breath, puffing out his cheeks. “I don’t know. Hard to determine a pattern when you’ve only got one body.”

Dean put the impala in reverse and backed out of their parking space. “Yeah, let’s go back to Mayberry and see if they’ve found the other two vics yet.”


	3. Chapter 3

Luke’s Diner, formerly a hardware shop on the corner of the block, was one of the mainstays of Stars Hollow. With several tables and a long counter, it was cozy and exactly the kind of small-town diner Dean would expect to find if television dictated his view of the world, which it totally didn’t.  Dean and Sam indulged in a quick glance around, nodding their appreciation at the homey feel of the place.

A man ghosting six feet tall stood with his back to the door. He wore a plaid shirt open over a plain tee and a blue baseball cap backwards on his head. “Caesar, another hamburger,” he called into the kitchen. The man turned to face Sam and Dean. “Seating is first come first serve.” He produced two menus and followed the pair to a table near the back of the diner. Dean put his back to the wall and faced the door, accepting the menus offered them with muttered thanks.

“Drink? Or anything?” the man said calmly.

“Water for me, please,” Sam answered.

“Iced tea,” Dean replied.

The man eyed Sam. “Wait, Dean, what are you doing here?”

Dean barely suppressed a groan and rubbed his forehead. Sam-not-Dean let out a sigh and sank a little into his seat, looking rather like he’d just prefer to disappear altogether. “No, my name is Sam. Seriously, who is this guy?”

“So, you’re not Dean, okay.” the man sighed. “Dean Forester is one of the worst people in the town. I haven’t seen him in a while because while he’s a block-head, I’m sure he’s smart enough to know that if he were to step in here, he would meet a terrible end.” The proprietor loomed over the table. “He broke the heart of someone close to me, and whom the town loves dearly. Anyone who messes with Rory Gilmore is a dead man.” He backed off again and scrutinized Sam some more. “It’s like you’re twins.”

Dean shot Sam a wide-eyed glare with a firm jaw that he hoped Sam translated to mean _I freaking told you so_. Sam shifted uncomfortably and flashed a tight smile to the proprietor. “No relation. Just a crazy coincidence that we rolled into a town with an insanely handsome asshole.”

“Handsome, sure. Anyway, let me get you your iced tea and water,” he said, walking back to the counter.

Sam was clearly fighting to keep from grinding his teeth while he stared hard at Dean, who was feeling mighty damned pleased with himself. “Not a word, Dean.”

Dean spread his hands in the universal gesture of _I’m not doing anything_ _wrong_ and Sam engrossed himself in his menu. After a long beat, Dean muttered, “Danger, Will Robinson, danger.”

“Shut up,” he hissed back.

“Hey, you’re the one chasing the most beloved tail in this town while wearing some jerk’s ugly mug.”

Dean may have heard an actual growl from across the table.

The proprietor returned and set two glasses on the counter along with a dispenser of sugar. “Sugar, if you need it. Just raise your hand if you two decide on what you want.” He strode back to the counter, stopping to tend to another customer along the way.

Dean added some sugar to his tea and stirred it, taking an experimental drink before nodding his approval and setting it back down.

Without warning the door flew open and a scrawny man in a police officer uniform from the 1950’s thundered in. “Luke, you need to come, Lorelai found a body when she was walking Paul Anka.”

“Kirk, what! Is she okay?” The proprietor—Luke—rounded the counter and dashed over to Kirk. “Where is she?”

“She’s not far, but she called 911-”

“Just show me. Caesar, you’re in charge!” Luke called as he pushed Kirk out the door.

Sam and Dean exchanged wide-eyed looks and scrambled out of their seats, rushing out of the diner after Luke and Kirk. They hopped into their car, Dean rolling down the driver side window as he pulled up alongside the two men dashing down the sidewalk. Kirk seemed to be trying his best to outpace Luke.

“You swear she’s okay?” Luke all but yelled, slightly out of breath.

“Don't you even have a squad car?” Dean shouted out the window. He hooked a thumb behind him, indicating the backseat. “Get in, show me where to go.”

Luke looked at Kirk, “Well, officially you’re not involved in this and as Lorelai and Luke--”

“Really? They’re offering a ride, just get in the damn car!” Luke shouted.

“As a deputy’s constable of Stars Hollow!” Kirk started to say, his voice getting louder.

“Just get in the damn car, Kirk!” As if there could be any confusion to his meaning, Luke pushed Kirk roughly toward the impala.

“I am going to write you up for harassing an officer--”

“Taylor gave you a badge for children. Just get going.” The two dove into the car, Kirk pouting. “Tell them,” Luke ordered Kirk. “Tell them where to go.”

“Fine, but I will be telling Tayl--”

“Just tell them!” Despite his protests, Kirk provided directions.

A few minutes later, they found Lorelai clutching the leash of a sheepdog. She sat on the ground, eyes staring somewhere into the middle distance. Luke leapt from the car and dropped to his knees in front of her. “Lorelai, are you okay?”

She shook herself out of her trance and met his gaze. “Body, dead. Paul Anka wanted to play with it.” She looked at the dog, eyes more alert but appearing numb, not really focusing anywhere in particular. “We don’t play with dead bodies, Paul Anka.”

“Where’s the body, Lorelai?” Kirk asked. All attempts to sound official were futile after the whiney car ride. She pointed to a walking path behind her, motioning that it was just a bit further.

Dean nodded at Sam to check it out as he crouched in the grass next to Lorelai. “Ms. Gilmore, can you tell me what you saw?” He gave the shaggy dog a onceover, sizing him up, before turning calm eyes on the woman next to him.

She looked up at him. “Dean Sixx?” She shook her head and continued. “Uh, I was walking Paul Anka and… he started to poke at something and I saw… the dead body over there.”

He laid his hand on her arm, voice even when he asked, “Did you see anything else? Anything or anyone else that shouldn’t have been there?”

“Uh, no, I… I didn’t look right away…” She answered, visibly shaken and beginning to fidget uncomfortably on the ground.

Dean’s hand tightened just a little on her arm. “Hey, you’re doing great, it’s okay. Did you recognize the body, do you know who it was?”

“No… I didn’t actually look because it’s a DEAD BODY! How are you supposed to deal with a dead body? Take its temperature right away so CSI Hartford can tell you the minute it died?” Lorelai’s voice started to rise irritably, clearly disturbed by the questions and the general trauma of the situation.

“Okay, okay, you’re right,” Dean conceded. He turned to fully sit in the grass next to Lorelai, a little bit in her personal space but not intrusive, and moved his hand cautiously to her back. He watched her for any indication that he was making the situation even worse. “No more questions, okay? Let’s just take a breather.” Dean pulled out his cell and sent a text to Sam: _She didn’t see anything and she’s totally freaked. Gonna stay with her. You ID the vic yet?_

Kirk stomped over to Dean, “I’m going to need to see some identification. This is my jurisdiction and I need to know that you’re not going to muck it up.”

“Sure.” Dean dug into his inside jacket pocket and produced his FBI badge with one hand, and fished another business card out with the other. The card was for a Supervisory Special Agent Willis. “That’s my boss, you’re welcome to call him if you want.”

Dean looked down at his cell phone when it beeped a text reply from Sam. _Tara Quinn. Torn up bad._

“Well, Taylor said that I should always check up on people’s credentials…” Kirk turned his eyes to Lorelai. “Can I borrow your phone, Lorelai?”

“What?” She said, standing up with Luke’s help. “Don’t you have one?”

“Yes, Mother took it away when she learned that it has the internet and she thinks that I’m looking at dirty pictures on my computer.” The two eyed Kirk incredulously. “What? Lulu talks to me on my computer and I don’t want Mother to take that away. She wants me to wait.” Luke and Lorelai continued to stare at him. Luke sighed and handed over his phone. “Thank you, Luke, you were always a favorite.” Luke let out another long-suffering sigh and just returned his attention to Lorelai.

Kirk dialed the number on the card, shuffling his feet awkwardly until the line was answered. “Hello, this is Deputy Constable Kirk Gleason of Stars Hollow. I am here with--” Kirk looked at Dean and asked, “Your name?”

Dean hauled himself to his feet and dusted off his slacks. “Special Agent Sixx,” he answered. “It’s on the ID I just showed you.” He could hear a gruff voice on the phone, loud enough to make out the irritated tone, but too quiet to discern specific words.

“Dean Sixx, Special Agent Dean Sixx. Am I speaking to…” Kirk studied the card again. “Supervisory Special… Agent… Willis?”

Dean could just barely make out an annoyed-sounding affirmative and a familiar voice.

“What agency is this? I haven’t heard of a Supervisory Special Agent, Either in real life or on TV.”

The reply on the phone was so loud and aggravated that Dean could hear every word perfectly. “ _What agency is this? Where the hell did you learn to be a cop? This is the Federal Bureau of Investigation, sonny. ‘Supervisory’ means I’m their boss. Now do you have any more dumb questions, or can I get back to investigating federal cases?_ ”

“Well, usually supervisor means you’re just in an office, you’re on a case too!?” Kirk continued, clearly missing the gravitas of the man on the other end of the line.

Dean shook his head and gave Kirk a knife-hand motion across his own throat, urging him to surrender. The voice pouring through the phone now was undoubtedly irate.

“ _Boy, if you don’t quit wasting my time, I’ll file obstruction charges with the DA! Now shut up and color!_ ”

“But I only color on Sundays.” Kirk said, frowning at the phone.

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and only barely managed to suppress a smirk. “Hung up on you, didn’t he?”

“Yeah, that was rude.” Kirk looked up at Dean and then returned the phone to Luke. “He hung up on me.”

“Not a surprise, I hang up on you all the time,” Luke retorted, shoving his phone back into his pocket.

“I never call you…”

Sam came back down the walking path. “Constable, are you going to establish a perimeter for your crime scene? Maybe call in a forensic team?”

“Uh, we don’t have any of that, I’m the only person on our police force. For a forensics team, you’d need to get the police from Hartford.” Kirk said, risking a glance at the body which was barely visible from his position. He turned away again with a shudder. “Eww.”

“I don’t mean to stomp all over your turf, but maybe you should do that,” Sam said, not even remotely phased by the corpse.

“We’ve got some crime scene tape in the car,” Dean added. “We’ll secure the area if you need to get back to your office.”

“Luke, I need your phone again,” Kirk said, turning back to Luke.

Luke shook his head. “No, just go down to the station or office or wherever you go and call them up there.” Kirk started to fidget before dashing off, literally running back up the street.

Dean tactfully said nothing else as he snagged the roll of yellow police tape out of the trunk of the impala. “You okay to stay with her?” he asked Luke, indicating Lorelai, as Sam led him up the path to the body.

“I'll take her home.” Luke answered as he wrapped his arm around Lorelai. The two shuffled off, leaving Sam and Dean alone with the crime scene.

Sam spoke in a low voice to his partner. “The first vic was in great shape compared to this one.”

“Do we need to rethink the werewolf angle?” Dean asked, tying the end of the police tape to a snow-frosted sapling.

The taller man shook his head, stopping alongside the bloodied corpse. “Chest is just clawed, nothing big enough to get the heart out. Not much flesh is _missing_ , so I don’t think it’s a rugaru or a wendigo either.”

Dean finished marking off a perimeter and stood next to his partner, one hand on a hip, the other massaging his jaw as he appraised the body. Tara Quinn looked to be in her late sixties with a grey bob of hair mussed with twigs and leaves. She was dressed in a pair of pale blue cotton slacks and a sweater that was once the same color as the pants before it was shredded and stained with blood. Her boots were appropriate for the cold February air but there was no winter coat in sight. She’d died with her eyes and mouth open, both pooled with blood. Dean squatted to get a good look at her throat. It was clawed up like the rest of her body, but not ripped open like a vampire bite. Pursing his lips in thought, he looked at a cluster of perfectly parallel scratches, then his own hand, going back and forth between the two a few times.

“Dean?” Sam asked from way above him.

The shorter man stood again. “I think our monster might be a female or an adolescent. Look how close together those claw marks are.”

Sam took a turn squatting next to the body. The toe of his shoe came down near the victim’s head with an odd _squish_ , and he leaned back slowly, paying attention to the ground. Dean crouched next to him and noticed the crimson shadow in the dirt. Sam carefully rolled the body enough to look at the back of the head, which looked to have been cracked like an egg. Dean jumped to his feet and turned away, swallowing down a retch because he’d totally seen worse than a little old lady’s head yolk smashed in the mud.

“Dude, don’t you dare say zombies,” Dean growled, still facing away from his partner, the index finger of his right hand raised in a warning gesture.

“Maybe?”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean huffed. “Where’s Bruce Campbell and his boom-stick when you need him?”

Sam chuckled and wiped his hands along the legs of his pants as he stood back up. He gave Dean a gentle whack in the side to get his attention. “Hey,” Sam said, gesturing to the gleaming black panel van that had parked just within view. Decals identified it as belonging to the Hartford Coroner’s Office and it was spewing uniforms that carried hard cases and bags. Two unloaded a gurney from the back of the van. Sam and Dean had their badges out and on display as the crew climbed the path.

 

*           *           *

 

Luke walked Lorelai back to his diner, careful to give her the comfort and space she needed, not pressing her to speak. She was unusually quiet. Normally Luke would be worried, but he knew this was a rare event; it isn’t every day that you come across a dead body, and he chalked up her silence to the oddity and general grossness of the day. Luke rounded the counter to procure a cup for Lorelai, pouring coffee into it, placing it gingerly in front of her. “Want me to call Rory?” Lorelai shook her head, eyes still empty.

Agents Sixx and Lee entered the diner several minutes behind them. They started for the counter, noticed Luke and Lorelai seated off to the side, and approached slowly, like they didn’t want to scare anyone. They didn’t sit down immediately, keeping a few feet of distance between themselves and the table. “Ms. Gilmore?” Lee asked gently. “May we sit?”

Lorelai turned her blank face to them, “Why are you here?”

The two men faltered at that but recovered quickly, faces softening. “We wanted to make sure you were okay. The forensic team has it under control, we were just getting in the way,” Sixx answered.

“No, I mean in Stars Hollow.” Lorelai’s face started to harden. “We have someone missing, okay that happens, but then… you come here and then we find dead bodies. We never find dead bodies in Stars Hollow, I mean sure the occasional dead deer might pop up--Rory once had a deer run into my Jeep--but human bodies, no.” Lorelai rounded on Agent Lee. “And him, that’s even more suspicious, not only the face of the man that broke my daughter’s heart but also broke the town’s trust… _and here he is back from the grave or wherever you came from_!” Lorelai stood up, clearly enraged. “ _back to break more hearts_!” I swear, if you even look at Rory, I will take those pebbles that you call balls and… and… Ask Sookie how to cook them because I wouldn’t know how to cook that… let alone that small.” Lorelai snatched up her purse before taking a gulp of coffee. “I’ll see you later, Luke.” She smiled at Luke and stared at Agent Sixx but sneered at Lee as she stormed out.

Agent Lee swallowed audibly, wisely giving Lorelai a wide berth. Agent Sixx’s eyes were wide as dinner plates as he sucked in a breath and blew it out. He fiddled with his watch for a moment until the door closed behind the irate woman and turning to his taller partner. “New plan, Sammy. Take the car, meet the ME again, then research. I’ll stay on the Roberts angle here, okay?”

Agent Lee nodded briskly. “Yeah, good idea.” Sixx dropped the car keys in his partner’s outstretched hand. Agent lee turned back to Luke. “Do you, um, think it’s safe for me to, uh... dash?”

“As long as you’re not stupid enough to look at Rory; she won’t hurt you unless you look at Rory.” Luke said. “Look, she’s… we’re all protective of Rory. She’s probably the best thing to come out of the town, so everyone’s protective of her.” Luke shrugged. “Plus I’m sure the whole… dead body thing doesn’t help, neither does looking like the town doofuss.”

The last shreds of dignity drained from Agent Lee’s face as his shoulders slumped, his entire frame just deflating. He opened his mouth to say something but either thought better of it or chickened out at the last second. Agent Sixx clapped him on the shoulder and gave him a sympathetic look. “Not your fault, man, okay?” He hooked a thumb vaguely in the direction of the door. “Go on, meet the ME, let me know what you find. Grab a bite to eat on the way if you want.” The taller man nodded and skulked toward the door. “Don’t get salad dressing on the leather!” Agent Sixx called after him.

“Bite me, Dean.”

Agent Sixx turned back to Luke. “Mind if I grab a seat at the counter and a burger?”

“Sure, just a normal burger? I don’t have any vegan patties ever since people complained about the smell,” Luke said, pulling out a notepad.

“Can’t say I blame ‘em, yuck. Yes, please, bacon and cheese. Side of fries. And I still owe you for that iced tea earlier,” he answered, taking an empty seat on the left side of the counter.

“Sure,” Luke takes the order, “You sure you don’t want that lean? Bacon and cheese will get to you.” Luke added.

Dean chuckled and shook his head. “Wow, you sound like Sam. Nah, load it up. Let’s just say I do a lot of cardio.”

“Uh huh, I didn’t know the FBI got a lot of cardio.” Luke finished writing and turned around, dropping the order ticket on a rear counter and slapping a bell. “Hamburger Cesar, extra deadly!” He turned back to the agent. “So, what’s your story. I get that you’re more than just the normal special agent.”

“Not the first time I’ve heard that,” said he replied, taking a quick look around him. There weren’t a ton of patrons in the diner at the strange hour, too late for lunch, too early for dinner. “Me and Sam are part of a… well, let’s just call it a _special_ unit. We go after the weird stuff. Three disappearances and two mysterious deaths in a town like this inside a month? That qualifies. Speaking of… what do you know about Tara Quinn?” He ran his fingers along the edge of the counter.

“So, spooks, X-Files types,” Luke said with a nod. “Tara Quinn… Tara… Quinn… it sounds familiar, I think she came in a few times to get breakfast, but early in the morning, usually around six-six thirty.” Luke shrugged. “You might want to ask Miss Patty, she basically knows everything about everyone.”

“So I’ve heard,” Sixx said, eyes slightly narrow but neutral. “Wow that smells awesome. What about Edwin Roberts? He’s still missing. Have you heard anything through the diner underground?” he asked with a good-natured half smile.

“Diner underground? You think that we all talk to each other?” Luke quietly guffawed. “Of the six places to eat, seven if you include The Dragonfly Inn, you’ll realize that there’s only two places to eat with edible food, my diner and The Hungry Diner, which is on the other side of town for the people too lazy to walk here.”  Luke chuckled a bit before answering. “I don’t remember an Edwin Roberts, he might have come here a couple of times, but no.” Luke turned his eyes to the ceiling, trying to remember, “If you want, talk to the best town gossips in Stars Hollow, Miss Patty and Taylor Doose. Miss Patty is in her studio most of the time and Taylor spends his time between his Soda Shoppe next door and his Market one block down.”

“Will do, thanks,” Agent Sixx answered with a genuinely friendly smile. “Does Miss Patty have a last name?” He pulled a notepad and pen out of his jacket pocket and jotted something down with the notepad resting on his leg under the counter.

“Uh yeah, LaCosta, Patty LaCosta. Her father apparently worked at the Copacabana an age ago.”

The agent nodded, flipped his notepad closed and stuffed it back into his jacket. “Thanks.”


	4. Chapter 4

Like many establishments in Stars Hollow, Miss Patty’s Dance School appeared to have started out as something else, in this case, a narrow barn. A rather rotund woman held up the wall as Dean mounted the steps. Rather than wearing her clothes, she seemed to have draped herself in yards of brightly colored fabric. “Come on, girls,” she called to the youngsters inside the studio.  “You can't pirouette if you're on the floor.” She turned to Dean with a smile “Well hello there, and who might you be?” she purred, her smirk making Dean feel a little like a piece of meat.

Dean offered her a tight smile in return, badge on display as he introduced himself. “Ms. LaCosta? I'm Special Agent Sixx, assisting on a local investigation. Do you mind if I ask you a few questions?”

“Agent Sixx, that's… an interesting name but sure, of course.” Her smile grew wider and her voice dripped saccharine. “Is this about the body that was found in the forest?”

His smile deepened briefly, hoping it didn’t appear as forced as it felt. “Wow, news sure travels fast out here.” He cleared his throat and let the smile fade to serious professionalism. “Did you know Tara Quinn?” He slid his phone out of his pocket and pulled up a photo from the missing person report to show to Miss Patty. “That's her. All I know so far is that she used to own her own business in Hartford and retired here a few months ago. Everyone I've talked to says you're the lady to see.”

“Well, I do try to keep abreast of everything that I can.” She chuckled and smiled at him. “She owned a stationery shop in Hartford from what she told me. She used to come and watch the girls practice, said it reminded her of her daughter.” Miss Patty turned back into the studio and yelled, “Madison, Sydney, ballerinas don't pull each other's braids.” Miss Patty let out a sigh that was laced with just a bit of exasperation and returned her attention to Dean. “She's only been here a couple of months so I don't know _that much_ about her _.”_

Dean took notes in his small notepad, nodding at appropriate intervals. “Can you think anyone she didn't get along with? Anyone that might have wanted to hurt her?”

“Oh, heavens no,” Miss Patty said, almost scandalized. “I honestly can't think of anyone having problems with her Even Taylor liked her since he didn't have anything against her. It's not like she had enough time to get on his bad side.” Miss Patty’s smile fell when she realized what she said. “Sorry dear, that was a bit dark but she wasn't around long enough to actually be known like others.”

If the bluntness bothered Dean, he didn't show it. “While we're on the macabre, do you know if anyone close to her recently died? Like a family member maybe?”

“No, I never really got much from her beyond her own belief in how to choose the right peach or the importance of heavy stock paper.” Miss Patty absently rolled an end of her flowy outfit between her fingers. “She wasn’t the most interesting of people, but she at least tried.” Patty’s eyes dropped to her feet then back up to meet Dean’s gaze. “I believe she came to Stars Hollow because her wife died a year or so ago. Apparently, it was too painful to actually keep the shop open without her.”

Dean kept scribbling and nodding intermittently. His jaw tensed just a little at the mention of Tara's dead wife. “What about Maxwell Young? Did you know him?”

“Yes. Okay, so I remember he used to own a jewelry store of some sort, not the fancy stuff you’d get at James Avery for a beau but rather something you’d get for your college girlfriend. Sterling silver with cubic zirconia. I think he came down here with his wife a few months ago as well from Hartford after he couldn’t make toe rings anymore.” Miss Patty laughed. “I never understood the point of a toe ring, it’s not like people are looking at your feet… unless that’s what you’re into.” She laughed suggestively, probing.

“Huh?” Dean asked, choking down a nervous laugh with a cough. Definitely feeling like a steak. “Oh! Yeah, no, I don’t get it either.” He cleared his throat and tapped his pen on the notepad. “Do you think he made any enemies selling cheap jewelry?”

“Not that I know of. We have a few people in town that make jewelry but they’re bickering with each other, they don’t worry about people going all the way to Hartford for competition.”

He hummed in understanding. “I guess that makes sense.” The agent’s eyes darted briefly to the miniature ballet students before settling back on Miss Patty. “I don’t suppose you know Edwin Roberts, do you? Lives down the street from the Gilmores?” “I think he owned some sort of antique store that specialized in writing desks. Yes, he does live down the street from Lorelai but he keeps to himself. I don’t know much about him and honestly, I would have thought he died if I didn’t see him in Doose’s Market every once and awhile staring at the lettuce. I don’t know what he had about lettuce.…”

“Lettuce? Low-fat freaks….” he muttered. “When was the last time you saw him?”

“Uh, a week ago? I don’t know.”

He flipped his notepad closed and shoved it back into his jacket with one hand and produced a business card held between two fingers, offering it to Miss Patty. “Thanks very much, Ms. LaCosta. If you think of anything that might be helpful, please give me a call.”

“Anything? Oh, don’t tell me that.” She let out that suggestive chuckle again. “I will keep you in mind Mr. Sixx.” Miss Patty turned back into the classroom and sighed. “What did I tell you girls, you need to keep the shoes on.”

Dean forced a tight smile as he turned away and bolted for the sidewalk, mumbling under his breath. “That’s just awesome, you cougar.”

 

*           *           *

 

Dean Forester was immediately greeted with a sneer from the inhabitants of Stars Hollow when he stepped off the bus. _I’m just here to sign the papers. The papers will be signed, I sleep at my Mom’s for a night or two, then go back to Chicago._ He shrugged his backpack on as he crossed the town square, past the Gazebo that brought a lot of old memories back to him. _Oh, Rory, how I fucked that up_. Right as he passed by Miss Patty’s, someone stopped right beside him.

“Whoa, dude, how’d you get back here so fast?” The shorter man barely looked up from his phone.

“Uh, I got here by plane then took the bus from Hartford… Who are you?” Dean Forester said, confused by the sudden appearance of the strange man speaking to him so familiarly.

“What are you talking abo--oh shit.” The man looked up finally, the rest of his question dying in his curse. His mouth hung open, green eyes huge and it was quite obvious that he was deeply uncomfortable. He looked torn between sputtering confusion and fleeing in terror. “You’re, ah…” His phone was still clutched tightly in one hand with an index finger pointing at Dean in some unspoken accusation. “You’re not Sammy,” he declared. “Holy freaking--weird.”

“I am not ‘Sammy’, I’m Dean. I’m guessing you haven’t heard of me. I’m sorta… infamous here.” Dean Forester looked at the smaller man, “And again, who are you?”

“Oh no, I’ve heard of you,” he replied, slowly recovering his composure. “I’m… Dean, too.” After a quick beat, new-Dean abruptly doubled over into a belly laugh.

“Uh huh, well… I’ve got to go see my mother. I’ll let you stay here and laugh.” Dean Forester started to slowly walk away. “It was good to meet you too… Dean.” he said, suspicious of the other Dean.

The shorter Dean pulled himself together with some visible effort and skipped in front of Dean-Not-Sam. “Man, I’m sorry about that, it’s just that my partner has been mistaken for you since we got here, and to see it for myself….” He looked the taller man up and down, shaking his head. “‘Uncanny’ doesn’t even _begin_ to describe it.”

“I’m sorry to hear it, there’s a reason why I left this tiny town behind. Break the wrong heart and you’ve broken everyone’s heart.” Dean Forester sighed. “Do you need anything? I’m sorta on the way to see my mom and I’d rather--.” Dean Forester interrupted himself with a sigh as he noticed a second, more familiar man running toward him. “What are you doing here, Kirk?”

Kirk closed distance with Dean. “So, you’re not Agent Lee? You’re the Dean Forester that broke the heart of Rory Gilmore?”

“Uh, yeah I’m that Dean, I… Look Kirk, I just got off the bus and I was on a plane from Chicago right before that. Do you need anything?” Dean felt his temper rising, already weary of the town he was being forced to visit despite never wanting to come back.

“I just had to see it for myself. There’s another man walking around that looks _exactly_ like you.” Kirk explained. “I mean, he doesn’t sound like you, he sorta sounds like he’s from… well, anywhere in America, like in those TV shows that I’m not supposed to watch. But you have gotten a Chicago accent a bit.”

“Kirk, do you need me?” Dean said with more force.

“No, I just had to see you.”

“Then bye,” Dean bit out, turning on his heel and stalking away. He eyed the other Dean again. “Uh, tell your friend I’m sorry he chose the wrong town to exist in!”

 

*           *           *

 

Sam opened the door to his hotel--inn, bed and breakfast, whatever--room and threw the deadbolt behind him out of habit. Dean sat on the room’s only bed which was strewn with papers and case notes while he thumbed through Dad’s leather-bound journal. The expression he gave Sam was what passed for hopeless by Dean's standards. That is, his eyes were tired and he held his shoulders with a frustrated tension, the set of his jaw a tell-tale sign that he was pissed, probably at the fact that he was frustrated.

“Hey,” Sam said, holding up a large paper bag. “I brought dinner. Pork fried rice and an extra egg roll for you.”

Dean dragged himself off the bed and to the little table where Sam set the bag down. “I thought you were getting tacos,” Dean complained while Sam shucked his suit jacket.

“You know, I thought about it,” Sam answered. “But then I remembered the last time we had Mexican on the east coast. Remember that joint in New Hampshire? Salsa tasted like marinara sauce?”

“Oh yeah,” Dean replied with a grimace. “Freaking weird.” He began unpacking the sack, setting plastic containers and white boxes on the table before turning the bag over and dumping out a pile of sauce packets and fortune cookies.

“So, how'd it go interviewing the townsfolk?” Sam asked, passing over a pair of chopsticks.

Dean let out something between a sigh and a growl. “Crappy.” He broke his chopsticks apart, shaking his head. “I don't know, man. I went to that Miss Patty lady everyone's mentioned.”

“The ballet teacher, right?”

He nodded. “Yeah, this so-called ‘goddess of gossip.’ Friggin’ waste of time. All I got was that Tara Young lost her wife right before she moved here. Oh, and I think…” Dean grimaced and lowered his voice. “I think she was… _flirting_ with me, dude.”

“Then how come you're not having dinner with her right now?” Sam asked, barely suppressing a smirk.

“Because old ladies are your thing, not mine,” Dean quipped, shoveling fried rice into his mouth.

Sam glared at him. “One time, Dean. I got felt up by that old lady _one_ time.”

“Yeah. And it was hilarious.”

At least Dean seemed to be in a slightly better mood now, so Sam continued. “Well, I had slightly better luck at the morgue.”

“Yeah, with what's-his-name, Dr. Country Crock?” Dean asked sound a mouthful of rice.

Sam snorted. “Margarine, yeah.”

“Terrible name.”

“Really terrible,” Sam agreed. “Anyway, so Tara Quinn was missing a fairly sizable chunk of her brain. Dr. Marg-- _the ME_ at first assumed it was because of the, you know, gaping head wound. But when he started poking around in there, he found claw marks on the remaining brain matter.”

Dean stopped eating and dropped his chopsticks into the box of rice. “Dude, seriously?” He chewed slowly, finally swallowing with some effort. “Thanks for the word picture. Gross.”

“Even better, Dr. Margarine--” Dean snickered, but Sam kept going-- “made a list of the brain structures that were missing.” He pulled a folded slip of paper from his pocket and slid it across the table.

Never one to lose his appetite for long, Dean resumed eating as he read the list. “Pituitary gland. Why does that sound familiar?”

“Well it's basically the control center for the endocrine system,” Sam explained, digging into his beef and broccoli.

“That's hormones, right?”

“Right.”

“Nailed it,” Dean said with a proud grin.

“Anyway,” Sam continued, “I feel like there's something in Dad's journal, but I can't remember.”

“I was just looking for brain-eating monsters in general and didn't see it.” The two men ate in silence for several minutes. “Oh, Sammy, I ran into your doppelgänger today.”

Sam groaned and slumped in his chair. “Come on, man, not you too.”

“No, dude, it was crazy. I actually thought he was you until he opened his mouth. Like, almost went for the silver he looked so much like you. I wish I would've gotten a picture of him so you could see it but I, uh, I think I pissed him off.”

Sam polished off his dinner and shoved the empty container away. “And how did you do that?”

Dean suddenly became very interested in his egg roll, pursing his lips in thought. “I might have, ah, laughed in his face.”

“Great. Thanks, Dean. Now even the guy walking around with my face hates me.”

 

*          *          *

 

“Kitsune!” Dean announced triumphantly. The trash from their dinner had been cleared off the table for a few hours and the two men were spread out with books, notes, a laptop, and a map of the town.

Sam hummed and nodded in acknowledgment. “Those are really rare, aren't they?”

“Yeah, as far as I can tell. But dad hunted one years ago. They're kinda the fox equivalent of a werewolf, but instead of hearts they eat human pituitary glands.” Dean wrapped up his explanation by closing the journal in front of his nose with a thud, a self-satisfied smirk tugging at his lips.

“Huh,” Sam said thoughtfully. “But that doesn't fit the pattern for the first vic. Maxwell Young only had superficial head wounds.”

Dean's face fell. “Then we're back to zombies?”

Sam huffed out a sigh and turned his attention back to his computer. “Well, Maxwell Young’s wife died, it was his daughter who reported him missing. But Edwin Roberts hadn't lost anyone close to him, and if it were zombies, the vics would just be really dead, not missing.”

Dean hopped up from his perch on the bed. “Then I guess we'd better find Roberts before he's both.”

“Agreed. Where do kitsune like to hang out, anything in the journal?”

Dean shook his head. “Nope. The one dad hunted lived in a house.”

“Great,” Sam said with a sigh. “Let's go meet with Mrs. Roberts again tomorrow.”

“Wanna go grab a beer?”

Sam held his hand up and shook his head. “No way, man. No way am I showing my face in this town if I can avoid it.”

 

*           *           *

 

Dean shoved his hands into the pockets of his leather coat, collar turned up against the cold breeze as he strolled toward the town’s lonely little bar. He hummed the chorus of “Whole Lotta Love” quietly to himself while he walked. The impala was parked a block or two down the street. Dean thought he’d give himself a few extra minutes to clear the fog of research out of his head. After a few bars of Zepplin, his footsteps faltered when he noticed a figure rushing toward him.

“Uh, other Dean, not the infamous one,” the man said as he got closer. “I uh, sorry, Agent… Lee--sorry Agent Sixx. Are you out here to enjoy our fine town life?”

Dean frowned just a tad as he came to a halt. He looked around him for an exit, but Kirk, the wimpy little police guy, had zeroed in on him. “Uh, yeah, yes,” he answered with an effort. _Such as it is_.

“You should go to the Black, White, and Read Bookshop-slash-Theatre. They usually show old movies. You know, the classics like _Citizen Kane_ or _Spartacus_ ,” Kirk explained. “But tomorrow we’re having a town meeting, Taylor is interested in having a new holiday celebration.” He shrugged. “But he hasn’t told me what it’s about. I hope it involves dogs. I like dogs.”

Dean really tried to keep his eyebrows from leaping off his forehead, but in the end, he didn’t think he succeeded. _What the hell is with this dude?_ “Ah, thanks, um-- _deputy_. No, I was actually just going to grab a drink,” he said, pointing down the sidewalk behind Kirk.

“I would join you but Mother says that I’m only allowed to drink when she’s around. Of course, when I’m with Lulu, we might sneak in a wine cooler and, please don’t tell Mother.” Kirk looked around like a scared rabbit ready to bolt. “Just… don’t tell anyone. I shouldn’t be so near the bar, Mother might hear from Miss Patty that I was near it and--.” Kirk started to walk the opposite direction. “Good luck Detective Lee! I HOPE YOU DO YOUR--,” he cut off abruptly but never finished the sentence.

Dean blinked and shook his head in an effort to clear out the crazy. “Wow,” he muttered to himself. He started toward the bar again, barely slowing down when he got to the door.


	5. Chapter 5

Michel stood at the front desk of the Dragonfly Inn, staring at the computer screen when Kirk threw the front door open. Early morning sunlight spilled through the trees into the small lobby. “Michel, I need your help,” he panted, skidding to a halt in front of the desk.

“Kirk, please, it is too early to deal with you,” Michel pleaded, rubbing his forehead as if trying to stave off a headache.

“No, Michel,” Kirk said with as much panicked authority as he could muster. “I need to talk to the two detectives. I need to know what room they are in.”

“Kirk, you know I can’t do that.” Michel’s annoyance turned suddenly to joy that only deeply unhelpful people seemed to experience in such situations. “I would be violating several laws, then you would have to arrest me _and_ yourself.”

“Lulu is gone.” Kirk had begun to yell, spooking a guest dressed for a morning jog. “She wasn’t at work! The children were asking ‘Where’s Miss Kushner’, and you should have seen their sad, little faces, tears streaming--.”

“Kirk--,” Michel said in a vain attempt to interrupt him.

“So, I ran to Mother’s and got my spare key for Lulu’s house and I went in and… she wasn’t there. Which is odd, this early in the day, she never goes anywhere. She makes breakfast at home because--”

“Kirk!” Michel tried again, temper flaring.

“--It’s cheaper to cook and Luke makes her a batch of coffee because--”

“Kirk! You need to stop!” Michel ordered sternly.

“Oh, sorry Michel, I don’t know what to do without Lulu.” Kirk trembled and wringed his hands, torn between pacing and remaining frozen on the spot.

“Ah, well, I am sure you’ll find someone who would appreciate your… oddness,” Michel said, quite rudely.

Kirk started to look around, half expecting to find the agents wandering around behind him. “Are they on the first or second floor?”

“Kirk, I’m not going to tell you,” Michel replied. Kirk could feel the man’s eyes boring holes into his skull.

“I’m gonna go to each room,” Kirk warned and with little effort put one foot in front of the other toward the nearest hallway of rooms.

“No!” Michel shouted.

Kirk broke into a run down the hallway, shouting. “Detectives, are you in here?!” Michel chased after him, hot on his heels at first but losing ground quickly in his well-tailored suit and dress shoes.

“Stop, you fool! Why must you be so stupid?” Michel hissed after him, again, quite rudely.

Kirk pushed Michel aside and rushed to the next door, hammering his hand against the wood. “DETECTIVES!”

“I’m calling Lorelai and you’ll have to answer to her!” Michel announced, walking briskly back to his desk.

“Lorelai will understand!” Kirk hollered over his shoulder.  “DETECTIVES!”

 

*           *           *

 

The banging and shouting woke Dean with a jolt and he rolled off the couch where he’d crashed like a pretzel. Scrambling to his feet, he drew his pistol from under his pillow. A quick look toward the bed revealed that Sam was awake and had already grabbed his gun from the nightstand. The two men exchanged tense glances until they recognized the panicked voice on the other side of the door and lowered their weapons. Dean stretched out the knots in his shoulders and motioned with his gun for Sam to get the door. Sam rolled his eyes and rushed to open the door. “Kirk?”

“Lulu is gone, she wasn’t at the Elementary School and she’s not at her home. I don’t know what to do but to come to you.” Kirk’s words rolled out of him in a veritable avalanche of crazy. “The kids are all by themselves--.”

Sam held out a hand in a placating gesture. “Hey, Kirk, calm down. Take a deep breath, and slow down. Who’s Lulu?”

“Uh, Lulu, she’s my girlfriend. Lulu Kurshner. She teaches third grade at the elementary school,” Kirk puffed, gulping in air. “I checked her home and the school. I think the principal is in the room. I mean I could go down and fill her place as her boyfriend but I don’t really like children, they tend to stare at me and that causes me to stare back.”

Sam’s eyes flitted around the hallway at the gathering crowd of sleepy, concerned guests. “Okay, okay, Kirk, shh, focus. Alright? Just go downstairs, we’ll be right there. Two minutes, got it?” Dean was already headed to the bathroom to get dressed.

  
*          *          *

 

“Hurry up! I don’t want Lulu to be found… well… yeah…” Kirk said, running down to the dining area. Once Kirk got to the landing of the first floor, he nearly ran headlong into the tall woman waiting for him.

“Kirk, you know you can’t do this!” Lorelai scolded. “Michel calls me to tell me that you were going door to door looking for those _detectives_.” She says, putting air quotes on the last word.

“Look, Lorelai, don’t mock them, they’re here to help us with whatever is happening, and whatever is happening is happening to Lulu.” His voice rose again and Lorelai pressed the air with her palms, which Kirk correctly interpreted to indicate he should be quiet.

“Lulu… She’s gone?” Lorelai asked, worry beginning to crease her brow.

“Yes.”

“You checked the school?”

“Yes, Principal Redgrove is watching Lulu’s class,” Kirk answered.

“And you checked her house?” she asked.

“Yes, I had to go to Mother’s to get the key. She wasn’t too happy that I was visiting her during the day. She thought we were going to have sex but clearly--”

Lorelai put her hands up. “Kirk. Focus.”

“Oh yeah, I checked her home, nothing there. She hadn’t even had coffee, because she still had the coffee grounds in the coffee maker and she takes those out right away because if she doesn’t, it’ll stain the--”

“Kirk!”

“Oh right, yeah. I checked but no she’s not there,” Kirk explained, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, wringing his hands again.

 

*          *          *

 

Sam and Dean hustled down the stairs, nearly bowling into Kirk and Lorelai on the landing. They were dressed in jeans rather than suits but still gave off the air that they were in charge. “Ms. Gilmore,” Dean said with a nod. “Is there somewhere we can talk that won’t keep disturbing your guests?”

“Yes, the reading room.” Lorelai led the group to a room that was half small library, half parlor. The walls were lined with bookshelves filled with nearly every kind of book and two inviting chairs that begged to be used for a lazy afternoon of reading. “Kirk, chair,” Lorelai ordered. “Dean, you take the other chair. Not-Dean… Just…” Lorelai sighed, “I have to get used to you not being… Dean….”

Sam swallowed but gave her a nod and a kind smile. “Kirk, when did you last see Lulu?”

“A little before I ran into you,” he answered, indicating Dean. ”We had a good dinner at Luke’s and then I walked her home. That’s when I ran into you. I had to hurry home because Mother doesn’t like me out when it gets dark.” Kirk said, very matter-of-factly. “She didn’t think I was out drinking.”

“Alright, alright, rein it in,” Dean ordered. Sam shot him a glare, and Dean softened his tone. “You walked her home, and bumped into me around nine last night.”

“Kirk, where does Lulu live?” Sam asked.

“Uh,” Kirk looked at Sam. “Sorry, it’s still weird. I saw your doppelgänger yesterday and… you two look strikingly similar. I mean, the hair is obviously different, Dean had his shorter but--”

Lorelai cut in. “What do you mean you saw his doppelgänger?”

“Yeah, so I was walking to Luke’s to meet Lulu after school, you know how we like to meet at Luke’s”

“Seriously Kirk, focus. You’re rambling,” Lorelai said.

“Sorry, Lorelai, I have a style of telling stories--”

“That isn’t fit for most people, get to the meat.” She looked about ready to slap the poor, little man.

“Okay! Sorry! So, I was walking to Luke’s and I saw Detective Sixx talking to what I thought was Detective Lee… and it was Dean! Er… not our Dean because he was never ours to own but--”

“So, Dean Forester, the man who broke Rory’s heart, cheated on his wife, and is a general scumbag is out on the streets of Stars Hollow again?” Lorelai summarized.

“He said something about divorce papers I think, I mean, why else would he be here?”

Lorelai groaned.

“What?” Kirk asked innocently, looking generally clueless.

“I have to call Rory,” Lorelai said as she stepped out.

“So, yes, sorry about that.” Kirk said, continuing to give the two men Lulu’s address. “You have to find her, Lulu is a great woman, she’s great with kids.”

Sam studied the address and passed the strip of paper to Dean who did the same and pocketed it. “We’ll get her back, don’t worry,” Dean replied. “You stay here while we go check it out.”

Kirk looked up then slowly rose. “No,” he said in a deeper voice than Dean had heard from him yet. “I need to be there with you. I need to tag along.” He placed a hand on Dean’s shoulder, not noticing the icy glare that Dean gave the intruding appendage. “Lulu is my girlfriend. I will help you find her.”

Dean brushed Kirk’s hand off his shoulder with a little more force than necessary. “Not gonna happen, Romeo.”

Sam shot him a frown, looking for all the world like a stern and displeased puppy. “Dean, come on, he wants to help,” he said quietly.

Dean threw his hands up in the air. “Fine, we’ll just charge the thing’s hunting ground with the world’s most neurotic rent-a-cop.”

“Hey, I am not a rent-a-cop!” Kirk said. “I’m a fine deputy constable for Stars Hollow, I get a stipend and everything. I’d have a baton but they took it away because it kept on flying away when I twirled it.”

Dean opened his mouth to speak only to close it again with a nearly audible snap. He turned on his heel and stalked out of the reading room towards the front door. “Un-freaking-believable,” he muttered. When he realized only Sam was following him, he whistled over his shoulder. “Come on, tough guy, bus is leaving.”

 

*          *          *

 

Lorelai pulled her phone from her rear pocket to call Rory. After a few rings, Rory answered with a chipper response.

“Hey mom!” Lorelai inhaled deeply, bracing herself, followed by an audible exhale. “Something up?”

“Okay so, I have some… odd news.” Lorelai closed her eyes, forcing her free hand to her forehead. “So, I know you had a fright by seeing that Dean lookalike a few days ago… but… turns out that the not-Stars-Hollow-Dean, uh Agent Sixx, had a fright himself.”

“What do you mean? Why are you talking in riddles?”

“Well…” Lorelai sighed heavily again, trying to get the stress out. “Dean is back. The… you know, the _real_ Dean.” She said, emphasizing the realness of her daughter’s former beau. “Apparently, Kirk saw Dean… talking to the Agent Dean and…. He’s back in town.”

“Wait, when?”

“Uh, I don’t know, but I’d guess within the past day or two… Kirk would have said something very obvious about it.”

“Yeah, he would have said something…” Lorelai could hear less distance than she expected from her daughter.

“So, you’re fine with… possibly running into him?” Lorelai pressed.

“I mean, I wouldn’t want to but it’s not like I’ve moved on…”

Lorelai heard the door open and turned to see the men rushing out, Kirk trying to explain how many windows he’s broken with an errant baton.

“Yeah, because Logan Doucheberger had to be a Douche...bur...  I mean he’s not a meal but--”

Rory continued, “No yeah I get it, it works. No, I’ll be fine, plus Paris is here so I can’t wait for her to hear this.” Lorelai heard a ‘hear what?’ in the background.

“Okay, yeah you have lunch. Bye.”

“Bye!” Lorelai locked her phone and put it away, unsure about what happened.

 

*           *           *

 

Dean turned the Impala onto the gravel drive in front of Lulu’s address. It was a modest house on a little spit of land. “Quaint” and “cute” were the only adjectives that fit the home, frosted like a gingerbread house in the February snow. The three men piled out of the car, Dean heading directly the unlock the trunk. He lifted the false bottom and propped it up with a sawed-off shotgun, digging into a tidy pile of knives and ammo cases. He tossed aside a worn cigar box which landed on top of an ancient urn with a dull rattle. Sam and Dean unloaded and checked the magazines of the semiautomatic pistols that they tucked into the back of their jeans.

“Uh, wow, they really give you a lot of leeway, don’t they?” Kirk said with surprise, “I asked for a gun when they took my baton away but they said that the town charter wouldn’t let me have it. And I know for a fact that the town charter doesn’t have anything against a town constable having a form of self-protection.”

Dean rolled his eyes. Sam nodded significantly at a small revolver in the trunk, and gave Dean a knowing look. The shorter man looked from the gun to Kirk and shook his head. “Oh, hell no, Sam. I wouldn’t give this guy a Nintendo pistol. No friggin’ way am I giving him a real gun loaded with really expensive silver rounds.”

“Hey, I was the best shot with the light gun when I was…” Kirk broke off for a second. “You said silver rounds. Why would you need silver rounds?”

Dean snatched up a trio of knives and shut the trunk pointedly. “No reason,” he said with a shake of his head, passing the knives around.

“It’s probably long gone anyway,” Sam said, falling into step just behind Dean.

“What is long gone? I know Lulu is gone but she didn’t have any pets, she knows I’m allergic to pet dander,” Kirk said as he accepted a knife. “Oh, thank you, that’s very kind of you. I used to have a knife like this but mother took it away when she learned that the local high schoolers like to play that knife game from that _Aliens_ movie, she thought I would do the same thing but I didn’t. I liked that knife,” Kirk rambled as he meandered with the two men.

“Sam, will you please find his off switch before I do it with the butt of my gun,” Dean growled. “I’ll go to the back, you two take the front.”

“What? Why is he with me?” Sam asked, voice rising in pitch with his indignation.

“Because if he comes with me, we’ll be short a bullet,” Dean muttered as he ambled to the backyard, gun drawn and angled low.

Sam sighed and stomped up the porch, digging a small case out of his jacket pocket. He opened the case to remove his lock pick and crouched in front of the door to work on the lock.

“What are you doing?” Kirk said as he pulled out a set of keys. “I mean, I have the key.”

“Oh,” Sam said, standing up to his considerable height. “Well that’s more convenient than I’m used to.” He stepped out of the way for Kirk to unlock the door. “Stay behind me,” he ordered, his voice all quiet authority. Sam slowly pushed the front door open and readied his gun. To the right was a small kitchen, a coffee pot half-full and cold on the counter next to a clean mug sitting at the ready. The kitchen opened into a dining room adorned simply with a cozy table and pair of wooden chairs. So far nothing seemed amiss.

“Sam!” Dean’s voice came from down the hallway, past the den. Sam changed course and made a bee-line for Dean. They found him standing in a bedroom that was positively covered in pink flowers. The covers on the double bed were pulled back on one side, a glass of water was spilled over the nightstand, soaking a paperback. To the left of the bed was a window that faced the backyard and trees beyond. Glass and a light dusting of snow covered the carpet below, the gauzy curtains clinging to a spattering of blood on the wall under the windowsill. Sam lowered his gun and tucked it into his jeans behind his back, shoulders slumping. “What do you think?” Dean asked.

“Huh,” Sam scoffed. “I think it’s getting bolder, more confident.”

Kirk looked around, “Wait, is that…” he breathed, starting to get sway on his feet. “That’s her…” was all he managed before he collapsed.

“Oh, for shit’s sake,” Dean said, just watching the man fall without attempting to catch him. “This is your fault.” He gestured to the heap of wuss on the floor. “You’re the one who wanted to empower the guy.”

Sam blinked down at Kirk. “Yeah, okay. Fair enough. Come on, let’s get him off the floor and out of this glass before he manages to slit his own throat on accident.” Sam squatted near Kirk’s shoulders and rolled him over. Dean grabbed his legs, and together they hauled him unceremoniously up to the bed.

“Let’s go check out the tree line. I think I saw an animal trail or something back there,” Dean said on his way out of the bedroom.

It didn’t take long to find where the brush was bent and broken as if it something had forced its way through the growth. Of course, the thin trail of blood in the snow that was clearly from someone being dragged helped point it out. Dean and Sam exchanged glances and extended their fists cradled in upturned palms. They pounded out a three count, ending with Dean’s top hand still balled in a fist and Sam’s flat like paper. Dean kicked at a stick in frustration and stomped into the trees, Sam behind him. The two men followed the trail that narrowed, as if whoever was being dragged had stopped struggling. Sam swallowed down an ominous churn in his gut and continued on, scanning the ground and trees for signs of danger or evidence.

“Dean,” Sam said quietly, a hand on Dean’s shoulder. He turned to follow the taller man’s gaze to a human-shaped lump in the snow. Sam knelt in the snow next to the body while Dean turned a slow circle with his gun at the ready, looking for threats. “It’s Edwin Roberts,” Sam announced. “Skull’s cracked open, but it’s a cleaner hole than Tara Quinn. And… yep, chunk of brain missing.”

“Cleaner?” Dean asked and joined Sam next to the body.

“Yeah, like the kitsune is getting better at killing and getting out the pituitary gland. Like it’s learning by doing.”

“Son of a bitch,” Dean breathed while he brushed off some snow to get a better look at a trio of narrow claw marks.

“Fits your theory that it’s an adolescent.”

Dean stood again and mopped his hand over his face. “Yeah, that’s just great.”

Sam stood next to him. When he spoke, his voice was low. “It’s just a kid.”

“It’s a monster dressed like a kid,” Dean argued.

“He was probably orphaned. Probably by hunters.”

“Yeah,” Dean said, jaw setting into a hard line. “And now there’s a mess left behind that we have to clean up.”


	6. Chapter 6

The sun had long been set, forcing Sam and Dean out of the woods and back into town. “Man, I’m hungry,” Dean complained from behind the wheel of the Impala. “We didn’t eat at all today, do you realize that? And we came up empty. This blows.”

Sam just hummed in agreement and dug a couple bottles of water out of the cooler in the backseat, passing one to Dean. He scowled down at the water bottle, but eventually accepted it with a grateful nod. They cracked their bottles open and chugged the contents. Dean parked the Impala near the diner and dragged himself out of the car. “I hope they have beer here,” he muttered as he strode to the diner.

Sam stopped in his tracks and grabbed the sleeve of Dean’s coat. “Dean, wait. Does it seem… a little quiet to you?”

Dean looked around. The street was completely empty. No one driving, or walking, or riding a unicycle while playing the bagpipes. Literally no one was around. The business were all shut down, lights off, and _Closed_ signs hung in the windows. “Well now, _that’s_ creepy.”

The taller man nodded. “Yeah, it really is. Where the hell is everyone?”

Dean punched the air with a frown. “Son of a bitch, I’m _hungry_.”

“Yeah, me too. We should probably check this out though,” Sam reasoned, heading down the street. It didn’t take long to spot a flock of cars parked around Miss Patty’s dance studio. Light poured from the windows and it was the only sign of life anywhere in town. The men shrugged at each other, lips turned down, and made for the studio.

“Okay, quiet, quiet!” a man’s said at the far end of the studio as Sam and Dean entered the building. “We have this festival to hold and we need to hold it quickly. We don’t know how quickly the weather will drive the foxes away.”

Curiosity burning, Dean stepped through the door, arching an eyebrow at Sam as they stepped inside the studio, standing in the back and out of the way.

“So, recently the town has seen a surge in fox activity. Now normally this isn’t common. Foxes tend to avoid cities and places with large amounts of people.”

Lorelai, sitting within earshot toward the back of the room with Luke and Rory, leaned over to the latter. “I didn’t know we had that many people to scare off foxes.”

“As such, we need to act quick to at least draw in potential tourists to help our small township.” The audience members that Dean could see all wore bored expressions but sat quietly nonetheless.

“That presumes that anyone actually knows about this,” Lorelai said to Luke, who kept his attention on the man at the front. “Luke,” she hissed, snapping her fingers. Luke turned sharply to face her, surprised. “Oh, my God, you actually care about this.”

“Eh, normally I don’t but… this might end up being important business-wise,” he responded with a shrug.

Dean leaned close to mutter in Sam's ear. “What'd be good for business is not closing up the only diner in town. I'm friggin’ starving.” Sam snorted and indulged Dean in a nod but otherwise made no comment.

The man at the front of the studio continued, “Now, we have been seeing the foxes around for at least two or three weeks, but there have been some in the community that have suggested to me that we take advantage of this--”

“You don’t count as anyone else but you, Taylor,” a woman with messy blonde hair piped up

Dean nodded just a fraction, recognizing the man’s name as the town selectsman that Ms. Gilmore had mentioned.

“Now, now, Babette, I have been approached by several business people within Stars Hollow--” Several people started talking trying to figure out who they were until Taylor waved his hands. “Okay, okay!” he yelled above the din. “Calm down.”

One by one the crowd returned their attention to the man at the podium. Beside him Miss Patty sighed. “Really Taylor, you don’t need to make this up.”

“I am not making this up. Anyway, in two days we will be holding the First Annual Fox Festival, so I will need everyone to pitch in so we can get this to happen!” Taylor stood there nodding expectantly at the crowd. “Okay, don’t everyone volunteer all at once.”

Lorelai raised her hand. “I can make a fox dress or costume?” she said.

“Yes, Kirk, would you be our First Fox?” Taylor said, looking at Kirk. Kirk was silent, staring at a wall. “Kirk!”

“Huh?” Kirk sputtered. “Oh I-I don’t know, now that Lulu is gone I really--.”

“Okay good, Kirk’s on board.” No one seemed to be interested in Kirk’s dilemma. A few more people begrudgingly agreed participate before Taylor dismissed the meeting.

Sam and Dean watched what was apparently the entirety of the town's populace mill about and slowly disperse. “Any of that seem a little weird to you?” Dean asked quietly.

“You mean besides the fact that there’s the Mayberry equivalent of the Zodiac Killer still on the loose and these people are excited about woodland creatures?” Sam replied, one eyebrow arched high as he stared at the festival's de facto ringleader.

“Yeah, besides that.”

“Nope, that's pretty much overloaded my oddball BS meter all by itself. Come on,” he said, gently swatting the shorter man's shoulder with the back of his hand. “Let's go talk to this Taylor guy, see what he knows.”

“Damn it,” Dean whined. “I'm _hungry_.” He schooled his features as they approached Taylor, fishing his FBI badge out of his back pocket.

“Excuse me,” Sam said, voice projecting polite authority that left no room for argument. “Special Agents Lee and Sixx. Could we have a few moments of your time Mr--?”

“Special Agents, I am glad you were able to make it tonight. I’m Taylor Doose, the Town Selectsman,” Taylor said gleefully, chest puffed out in what could only be construed as pride. “I hope that you’ve caught the vagrants that have been taking our townspeople.”

That got Dean’s attention. “Why do you say ‘vagrants?’” he deflected, eyes narrowed a little.

“That’s what usually happens, vagrants from who-knows-where on some sort of Jack Kerouac weed trip waltz into small towns like this and murder people they think are monsters or something. I’m glad we don’t have any babies or I’m sure they’d eat it….”

Sam's eyebrows crept up his forehead at that. “So, this has happened in Stars Hollow before?”

“No, but you know how it starts. First vagrants start appearing in town, then they send out waves of hormones or drug smoke signals and all the druggies will come… and with those druggies the drug dealers will come and then one thing leads to another and we have a gang war happening here in Stars Hollow!”

Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow at Taylor. “You know marijuana doesn’t make people violent, right?”

Dean jumped in before the Selectsman could answer. “Have you noticed anything else weird around town? Heard any strange noises at night, that sort of thing?”

“No, not unusual. Stars Hollow is a very quiet and normal small town that you would find in any Americana media source. Of course, that’s before we’re invaded by The Cartels,” Taylor spat as he gathered his notes. “We take pride in our small town, but we must always be on the watch for the hippies… Of course, I wouldn’t be surprised if the Town Troubadour invites them along....”

Dean shoved his hands in his pockets and settled back on his heels, posture and facial expression no longer concealing his impatience. He stared up at his partner expectantly. Sam gave him a helpless shrug before continuing on without acknowledging the conspiracy theories. “You say Stars Hollow is quiet, and people showing up missing or dead isn’t exactly common around here. I can’t help but wonder: don’t you think _this_ ,” he gestured at the emptying room, “festival thing you’re organizing is a bit… I don’t know. Insensitive?”

“I mean, the foxes aren’t killing them, so how is it insensitive?” Taylor said, confused. “I mean, how could a fox kill people like that? Only vagrants hopped up on the latest drugs could do… such ghastly things.”

Sam forced his lips into a tight ghost of a smile that came nowhere near his eyes. “Okay. Thanks for your time,” he said. With a single nod of his head, he turned on his heel and headed for the door. Dean lingered just long enough to politely shake Taylor’s hand before heading for the door himself.

“Yeah okay, he doesn’t know anything,” Sam conceded when they were outside.

“Nope. And he’s not the kitsune either.” The taller man stopped and gave Dean a questioning eye. Dean held up his right hand, which bore a simple silver ring, and flashed a self-satisfied smirk. Sam rolled his eyes and trudged back to where they’d parked the Impala.

Dean grabbed Sam’s sleeve roughly. “Dude, I need pie or something to kill,” he grouched. “Like yesterday.”

“Yeah me too. Maybe the kitchen’s still open at the hotel.”

 

*           *           *

 

The hotel’s kitchen was indeed open, much to Dean’s joy. He ordered a cheeseburger with bacon and a fried egg on top and a slice of cherry pie. Sam, clearly famished, added a turkey wrap to his usual order of a grilled chicken salad. Dean rubbed his hands together with delighted anticipation when the waiter set down a perfectly cooked burger and a generous serving of some regional potato chip recipe. Munching happily on a chip, he looked up at Sam, who frowned pathetically down at a rather sad excuse for a turkey wrap and a decidedly limp salad topped with four small cubes of chicken and three anchovies. When Sam let out a pitiful sigh and unrolled his silverware from his napkin, Dean laughed so hard he nearly choked on his potato chip. “Dude,” he said, taking a long pull from his Coke. “Did you lose another rabbit’s foot or something?”

“Shut up,” Sam replied, picking the anchovies off his salad with a grimace.

 

*           *           *

 

The town square was abuzz with life, makeshift decorations covering every square inch of real estate; booths were set up for food and games open for people to visit, all with a theme of foxes. All the booths and decorations colored red and black, people wearing red coats and fox ears on their heads. The small town was out in force, everyone converging on the town square to enjoy the impromptu festival. Rory strolled through the crowd as little girls in fox costumes ran past her.

“Slow down girls, slow down, you’re going to get hot in those costumes and the dye might run,” came Miss Patty’s voice from behind Rory. “Oh sorry, Rory. You know how the girls can be when they get a chance to run around.”

“Oh indeed, Miss Patty, I remember when I first started classes with you,” Rory responded.

“You sat in the back and read in your tutu while everyone was jumping around you!” Miss Patty smiled, softly hitting Rory to remind her.

“I had to finish Beverly Cleary,” Rory added under her breath.

“My favorite was _The Mouse and the Motorcycle_ ,” Agent Lee-not-Dean said, suddenly appearing behind Rory.

“My God, you’re such a nerd,” came the deeper voice of Agent Sixx.

“Oh, Agent Dean,” Miss Patty purred. “It’s nice to see you.”

“Uh, agents.” Rory said, taking a sudden interest to the snow around her feet. “Uh, sorry,” she said looking back at Agent Lee, “it’s still… weird to see--”

“YOU!” shouted a third man with an all-too familiar voice. “WHO ARE YOU?” Dean Forester demanded, twisting his fists into Agent Lee’s coat.

Agent Sixx froze, mouth slightly ajar. Lee sputtered and tried to put distance between himself and his attacker, apparently unsure about whether he should grab the other man’s arms or not. Sixx had recovered and looked ready to go a few rounds if that’s how this was going to go down.

“Uh, Dean?” Agent Lee managed. “I think this is a paradox and the universe is going to implode.”

“Who are you?” Dean-not-Lee said.

Agent Lee shoved his doppelganger’s hands off him and pulled his badge out of his pocket, shoving it in the other man’s face. “Special Agent Sam Lee,” he said, voice full of frosty authority. He turned to his partner and pointed at his stranger-twin. “This is the guy you mistook for me?”

Sixx nodded and shrugged.

Lee scoffed and gave the other man a disdainful glare up and down. “Come on dude, I’d never cut my hair like that.”

His partner just shrugged again. “I got nothing, man.”

“Look, I’m Dean Forester, born September 16th, 1984. I lived here for five years until I fucked it up.”

Rory pulled at Dean’s arm, “Dean, not here, come on.”

Dean-not-Sam shook her arm off, “No, look what magic did you do to earn my face? Are you my lost twin or something?”

Agent Lee rolled his eyes. “My birthday is May 2, 1983, so I’m older than you. Technically, you have _my_ face.” He straightened his shoulders and scowled. Agent Dean still looked ready to intervene but thought better of it. Agent Lee looked like he had hit his limit and was ready to throw down. Lee jabbed a finger into the other man’s chest. “All I know about you is that you apparently broke her heart--” he nodded in Rory’s direction, “and that pissed off this entire freaking town. And ever since I got here I’ve been getting crap for some stupid stunt that _you_ pulled God-knows-when. I’ve talked to her a grand total of half an hour and she is one of the nicest people I’ve ever met, even though I look like someone her neighbors all seem to think she should hate. And if you were dumb enough to mess that up, man, that’s on you.” He jabbed that finger a few more times to emphasize his point, left hand clenching into a fist.

Dean’s fist came out of nowhere, connecting squarely with Lee’s jaw. “Look, I’ve had enough talking down to because of this town.”

Sam’s head snapped around with the force of the blow but he kept his footing. When he came back around, so did his right fist, connecting with Twin-Dean’s jaw with enough follow-through to knock him on his ass. Agent Dean apparently took that as his cue and jumped between them, one hand on his partner’s chest, the other held out in Twin-Dean’s direction, silently urging him to stay down for the time being.

“Sam, Sam, man, you have got to chill. He’s a dick, I get it, but come on, he’s no match for you.”

Agent Lee blew out a breath and stepped away with a nod, running both hands through his hair.

Dean Forrester climbed to his feet, a fire in his eye that said he was spoiling for a fight.

“Dean! No!” Rory screamed, reaching to grab Dean until a hand clamped onto his shoulder.

“Go,” Luke said firmly. “You know better.” Luke had appeared with Lorelai suddenly, his hand gripping Dean hard. Dean shook the hand off then sulked away, casting a mean scowl at Luke. “Sorry about that, he’s… well, he, I never liked him,” Luke said to Agent Lee.

“Gee, go figure,” Agent Lee said, dabbing at his lip with a wince, fingers coming away bloody.

Agent Sixx eyed his partner. “You good?”

Lee nodded. “Yeah. But if I ever get a haircut that bad, you have to promise me that you’ll shave my head in my sleep.”

“Dude, I’ve been offering to do that for years.” After a pause, Sixx spoke again, mischief wrinkling the skin around his eyes. “So, does that count as beating yourself up?”

Lee groaned. “Luke, do you have anything at the Diner to help Agent Lee?” Rory said, looking at Luke.

“Uh, I don’t think so, we normally don’t get fist fights,” Luke responded with a sigh. “I think that your mom has some first aid stuff in the kitchen.”

“I do?” Lorelai asked, clearly surprised by this information.

“Yeah, since we’ve been dating. I’m not gonna let you get hurt. Last time you cut yourself, didn’t you use an old rag on the cut or something?”

"That happened once and I had been meaning to get band-aids.” Lorelai acted hurt, scoffing. “That was the week that Sookie went on that mini-vacation and she asked me to watch her kids.” She pointed at Luke. “Which we will never do.”

“Uh huh.” Luke turned to Rory. “It’s under the sink. I cleaned it last week to make room for it.”

“You cleaned my kitchen!” Lorelai shouted, feigning offense. “How dare you.” Rory smiled as she started to walk away, hearing Luke explain that the household cleaners he found expired more than a decade ago.

She stopped at the two agents, “I’ll get you something for that hit,” she said softly, still unsure how to act near Agent Lee before walking on back to her house.

Agent Lee tried to protest, claiming that he’d had much, much worse, but the exchange happened so quickly that by the time he could get a word in edgewise, Rory was already across the street.

 

*           *           *

 

Snow fell silent and lazy in the hazy afternoon sunlight. Rory walked down the street to her mother’s house, snow crunching beneath her shoes. She sighed, enjoying the cool air when  a buzz in her pocket drew her attention. She pulled out her phone to see an incoming call from Lane, pressed accept, and put it to her ear. “Hey Lane, are you taking the twins to the festival?”

“That’s what I’m calling you about, Zack isn’t feeling well and rather than force him to join me at the festival….”

“You were wondering if I could take them?”

“Yeah, if one parent is down… it’s hard enough.”

“No need to say anymore, I’ll enlist mom to--.” Rory turned her head toward a knot of trees as they rustled. “I can enlist my mom to help me.” A boy at the edge of the knot caught her eye. “I’ll see you in a few minutes, I’m just getting something from my mom’s.” They said their goodbyes and Rory pocketed her phone.

The boy, about twelve, pulled his blue coat around shoulders that shook in the cold. His freckled nose was red, dark hair unruly and catching wet snowflakes by the dozens. The boy huddled under a tree that offered no protection from the snow that was beginning to fall again. He rubbed his bare hands together as quickly as he could, but it couldn’t bring the color back to his fingers.

“Are you having fun at the festival?” Rory asked, edging toward the boy. “Playing hide-and-seek with someone?” She expected the boy to shush her but instead red-rimmed eyes stared up at her blankly and his slumped posture was the picture of defeat.

Slender arms came around Rory from behind, one going around her throat, the other pinning her arms to her sides with an incredible strength that didn’t match the build of her attacker. The hand closed around Rory’s left arm ended in what felt like claws, like a dog’s but sharper. She opened her mouth to scream but the arm around her throat squeezed, cutting off her air supply. Rory panicked, heart pounding in her ears as she thrashed but the person holding her was too strong. The boy approached her, pulling a couple of large zip-ties from his jacket pocket, and then everything went black.


	7. Chapter 7

Sam fidgeted and checked his watch for the fifth time in ten minutes. Dean crossed the seven or so feet between them, a cup of hot cocoa in his hands and probably a witty zinger ready on his lips, but Sam beat him to the punch. “Don’t you think an hour is a little long for a quick run to their house and back?”

Dean mirrored his watch-checking. “Yeah, you’re right, it has been a long time.” Spotting Lorelai across the street, he waved her down. “Ms. Gilmore, have you heard from your daughter since she ran home?”

“No, unusual for her.” Lorelai slid her phone out of her coat pocket and dialed Rory’s number. She held it to her ear for just over a minute before she flipped it closed. “Shoot, she’s not answering.” She turned to Luke. “Do you think she’s fallen asleep or something?”

“I doubt it, I’ll go check on her,” Luke said, looking down the street. “Just make sure that Dean doesn’t come back around.”

“You’re going to leave me alone to defend these two hunks of meat?” Lorelai said, placing a hand on Agent Sixx, leaving it hanging for a second longer than she should have.

Luke raised an eyebrow at Lorelai, “Yeah, sure. I’m sure that they can’t defend themselves.” He started to walk, removing his cap to ruffle his hair for a second before replacing it again.

Lorelai faced Sam and Dean again. “Oh, I’m sure that you two can defend yourselves. I mean, you’re agents and everything.”

Dean flashed her a confident smirk. “And then some.”

“Luke, I’ll come with you,” Sam said, exchanging nods with Dean.

“Oh, no, no, you don’t need to,” Luke replied. “I’m just going up the road.”

The look Sam gave Luke was just this side of what Dean called puppy eyes and had a nearly perfect track record for being totally disarming. “No, you’re probably right,” Sam said. “But it might be helpful for our investigation. After all, if there’s anything out of the ordinary, who better to recognize it than a local, right?”

Luke gave him a sour look. “Uh, I guess. I mean, it’s just…” Luke looked down the road like he wished it would swallow him up. “It’s just down over there.” He pointed in the direction of the Gilmore house and sighed. “Oh, just follow me,” Luke resigned, starting off toward Lorelai’s house.

Sam gave Luke a small smile. “Thanks,” he said, following him down the street. As the pair broke away from what passed for a crowd, they fell into a deeply uncomfortable silence, punctuated by little, meaningless noises--coughs, throat clearing, tongue clicking. Sam struggled to keep from trailing directly behind Luke while not striding right ahead of him with his longer legs. As a result, he yo-yoed at Luke’s side: nearly passed the other man, then fell behind, then pass, then behind. He couldn’t suppress a small sigh of relief when they reached the Gilmore’s house.

Luke climbed the front porch and opened the door. “Rory? Are you here?” he called upon entering the house. “Rory?” he yelled a bit louder, going to the kitchen and finding it untouched. He sighed and went under the sink to grab the first aid kit. “She’s not here.” He clutched the first aid kit and nearly ran headlong into Sam, who stood in the doorway. He shoved the kit into Sam’s hands. “She’s not here.”

Sam accepted the first aid kit and held out a hand to keep Luke from bolting. “Okay, can you think of somewhere else she would have gone, or any reason why she wouldn’t be answering her phone?”

“No, she wouldn’t just leave without at least sending the aid kit to you.” Luke looked around the porch. “She’s not like this, she’s a good girl, she’s responsible.” He reentered the kitchen and made a beeline for the phone, dialing a number from memory. “She’s not here, Lorelai,” he said once she picked up. Sam couldn’t hear a response. 

*           *           *

It was a wave of nausea that brought Rory back to consciousness. She groaned and shook her head carefully, wincing at a terrible ache in her neck and throat. After a few minutes of agonizing disorientation her eyes finally adjusted to the dark room. It was plain and bare save for a cooler and a cluster of buckets in a corner her arms bound behind her back _._ A dark, brownish-red spatter on the wall to her left that smelled like pennies sent Rory’s stomach back into flips. She tried moving her arms, but the sharp plastic edge of zip-ties bit into her wrists. As if it wasn’t bad enough to be trapped in some kind of cold Halloween nightmare, it had to be with her hands tied behind her back.

“Okay I’ve seen this, I’m not cutting my hand off,” she said, twisting herself to see as much as she could. “I’m not rich and my mom isn’t either,” she yelled, trying not to get scared. “I’m not gonna play any games and I swear you better not have a clown mask! I don’t do well with clowns. I kicked one when I was four because it was real scary and smelled weird.” Rory sighed. “I’m sure he was just drunk but I mean, having to deal with little children like that… who wouldn’t?”

*           *           *

“Where is she?” Lorelai asked, looking at her watch. “Where’s Rory?” She turned to Dean, her worry starting to show. “This isn’t like Rory,” Lorelai reasoned. “She’s a real responsible girl that always keeps in touch.”

Dean put his hands on Lorelai’s arms, dipping his head slightly to look her in the eye. “Okay, let’s just take a breath and think this through. Does she have a friend on the way that she might have stopped to talk to? Somewhere she might have gone, someone who might have called her?”

“I mean, she could have stopped to talk to anyone in town. She’s a nice girl, she won’t brush people off, she’ll stop to talk to you if you get her attention.” Lorelai closed her eyes, looking up into the sky when she opened them again. “I wouldn’t normally worry but, people have been dying.” Lorelai paused, rightfully uneasy with this fact. “If Rory--” she gulped. “If Rory gets hurt… or, worse.” Her voice hardened. “I couldn’t.”

“Hey, hey, no one’s getting hurt, okay? We’ll find her,” Dean said, pulling out his cell and dialing Sam’s number.

“She’s not at the house, Dean,” came Sam’s voice within two rings.

“Yeah, I heard. Any clues? Did you see anything that will tell us where the thing is hiding?” Dean asked, not even bothering to lower his voice in front of Lorelai.

“No, it’s like she never made it home. There was no blood or anything like with Lulu either.”

“Okay,” Dean said, mopping a hand over his jaw. “You try to retrace her steps, see if you can find anything. Lorelai and I will start asking around, see if anyone saw Rory.”

“Got it,” Sam said and hung up.

Lorelai sighed and started to circle Dean.

Dean pocketed his phone and shook his head. “Let’s ask around, see if anyone has seen her in the last few minutes. If she was taken, maybe someone saw or heard something. We need to try and figure out where the thing is holed up.”

“I’m sure that Taylor won’t respond to you that well, I’ll go talk to him,” Lorelai said as she started back toward the festival, moving before Dean could stop her. She walked for a moment until she found Taylor. “Taylor, have you seen Rory?”

“No, I have not. Unusual as she usually partakes in our fair town’s seasonal festivals. I think I saw her walk toward your house,” Taylor said, holding a clipboard. “However, considering that she’s no longer living in Stars Hollow, I don’t think that we can expect--”

“She still lives here Taylor.” Lorelai said, waving her hand quickly and turning to shoulder her way through the crowd until she spotted a couple holding two toddlers. “Lane! Lane!” She rushed toward the couple. “Have you seen Rory?”

Lane gave her husband the kid she was carrying. “Uh no, she said she would watch Steve and Kwan but she never came around.”

“When did she say that? Did she see you?” Lorelai asked, her words pouring out in a panicked ramble.

“Uh, an hour ago or so? I don’t know… I called from the home phone, so I don’t really have a way of checking.”

“I love you but you’re useless right now. I can’t find Rory,” Lorelai said, eyes scanning the crowd.

“Wait, she’s missing, you don’t think-”

“Finish that sentence and Zack will be a widower.”

“Noted, I’ll ask around and see what people said. Come on Zack,” Lane said to her husband. He sighed and followed, children holding onto him as he made his way through the throng of people.

Dean jogged to catch up to Lorelai. “Does this town have a registrar or archive?”

“Uhhh, probably but it’ll be easier to ask Taylor but what do you need to know? I don’t want to have to talk to Taylor and hear about how Rory leaving for a career is the ultimate betrayal to the town.” Lorelai sighed, bouncing from foot to foot in her worry.

“Figures,” Dean muttered. “Look, if this thing we’re after took Rory, we need to figure out where it’s hiding. That means we need to know about any houses in the area that were recently bought or vacated. It’ll probably be on the outskirts of town, somewhere the locals might not notice squatters.”

 

*           *           *

 

Sam walked back up the sidewalk the way they’d come, eyes on the snow for signs of struggle. He stopped near a tree, tracks that looked like drag marks marring the snow. He gestured at Luke. “Hey, I think I found something. This look like someone was dragged off into those trees to you?”

“Yeah,” Luke said, looking at the path. “Should we follow it or wait for your partner?”

Sam shook his head and pulled his gun from his waistband and a knife from a jacket pocket. He offered the knife to Luke. “No time. Think you can use that thing if you have to?”

“Yeah, pointy end goes into the angry person?” Luke says, eying the knife. “I mean, I’m a cook, I know how to use this on food.”

Sam shrugged. “Close enough,” he said and followed the trail into the woods, gun at the ready.

The drag marks led to an animal trail. The two men walked on, alert for signs of movement. Perhaps a mile in, the trees gave way to a small house with an unkempt, scraggly garden on one side. A twig snapped too far behind him to be Luke, and Sam spun around. He straightened up and lowered his gun when he saw it was a boy around twelve years old. “H-hey there,” he said. “I’m Sam. What’s your name?”

The boy blinked up at Sam and Luke. “Brandon.”

“Brandon, have you seen a young lady in the last hour or so?” he asked.

Brandon shook his head.

“No?” Sam said, holstering his gun. “Do you live here?”

The boy nodded.

“Are you parents home?” Sam didn’t hear the answer, a sharp blow to the back of his head sending him into unconsciousness.

 

*           *           *

 

Sam fought his way out of the fog and shook his head with a groan and a wince. “Ow. Yeah that feels like another concussion,” he mumbled.

“Oh, my God!” Rory’s voice squealed from just out of view. “Luke!” Rory yelled happily as she jumped up and fell upon him. “Oh, God you’re here, how did you get here?”

“Uh wha--” Luke looked around, hands tied like Rory’s. “Uh, where are we?”

“I don’t know, I just know they haven’t given me a saw yet, but I wouldn’t be surprised if they do it now.”

Sam tugged experimentally on his arms and felt the bite of zip ties locked tight. “Rory,” he said. “Are you hurt?”

“No, other than the weird smell here and the fact that we’re in a post-Saw trope factory, I’m fine,” She said with forced cheer.

Sam snorted. “Good,” he said, struggling to sit up and lean against a wall. The three fell into a momentary silence. Sam closed his eyes. “Damn it, Dean was right. It is a kid.”

“What do you mean it’s a kid?” Luke asked, shaking his head.

Sam sighed. “The... _thing_ that took us. It’s not human.” He looked from Luke to Rory and back again, both were staring at him expectantly. “I’m not FBI, and Dean isn’t my partner, he’s my brother. We hunt monsters. You know, ghosts, demons, werewolves, vampires. It’s all real and we travel to towns like this one where some monster is making a mess of things and we kill it.”

“Are you high?” Luke asked, “ghosts, demons, vampires?” Luke sighed, “Have a stake to kill Dracula too?”

Sam looked up at the ceiling. These talks never seemed to get any easier. “Actually,” he said, “vampires have to be beheaded. But that’s not the point. The point is, that kid and whoever cleaned our clocks are something called kitsune. It’s like a werewolf, but a fox. They feed on human pituitary glands.” At Luke’s incredulous stare, Sam rushed on. “Look, I know that doesn’t make this sound any less like a bad acid trip, but it’s the truth. The last two bodies Dean and I found had their heads bashed in and brain matter missing.”

“So, are we talking about sexy Anne Rice vampires or are we talking Nosferatu bat like things?” Rory asked rather plainly.

“Wait, you’re just onboard with this?” Luke says, turning to Rory.

“The truth is out there, Mulder,” she said with a smile. “But seriously, Brad Pitt or scary, leathery, creepy dudes?”

“Neither,” Sam answered. “Kitsune look like normal people until they sprout fangs and claws. And they're stronger than humans, which is how they got us in here.” He sighed heavily. “And they're kids, which is how they got the jump on me. Probably orphaned by hunters. Like me.”  

“Ah, so you’re more like Buffy and they’re more like The Master?” she said, nodding.

Sam threw his head back and laughed. “I can honestly say no one has ever called me a five-foot blond girl before. But yeah, just less superpowers.”

“So, what do we do now?” Luke asked.

“Well, the lack of superpowers does make this hard.” Rory added.

“I’ve gotten out of worse,” Sam said confidently. “Wait, Lulu. Rory, have you seen her since you’ve been here?”

“Did someone say my name?” a voice said from the shadows behind the three of them.

“Lulu!” Rory said, scooting over to her. “Lulu’s here,” she said to the two men.

“Are you okay, Lulu?” Luke asked right away, his voice sounding pained. “Kirk is going crazy looking for you.”

“I bet, I know his mother won’t let him go out too long looking for me but it’s probably for the best.” She sighed.

Sam turned awkwardly. “That’s convenient,” he muttered. “Lulu, my name’s Sam. Are you hurt?”

“I’m hungry, does that count?” she asked, scooting closer, disheveled but not hurt.

He looked her over and nodded reassuringly. “We’re going to get out of here, don’t worry.” Sam shook his boot. “They took my knife, but…” He eyed Luke’s sneakers. “Luke, can you turn so I can reach your shoes?” he asked, turning to meet him halfway.

“My shoes? Why do you need my shoes?” he asked with uncertainty.

“Not your shoes, just the laces. We can use them to break these zip ties.”

“Uh huh,” Luke exhaled. “Okay then.” Luke turned and put his feet near Sam’s hands.

"It’ll work,” Sam said. “I think.” Straining against his bonds to reach Luke’s shoelaces, he untied them, managed to loop them through the zip tie, and tied them together. He tugged experimentally. Satisfied, he nodded. “Okay, now, you kinda bicycle your feet as fast as you can and the friction will cut through the plastic. Got it?”  he asked, leaning forward and putting as much pressure on the zip tie as he could.

Luke looked at Sam, “Uh huh. So, this is your normal fare?”

“Normally?” Sam said, wincing as the zip ties dug into his wrists. “No, normally it’s much worse. Like Lucifer worse.” He let out a grunt of relief when the plastic snapped and his hands came free. Looking around for resources, Sam’s eyes settled on the plastic buckets across the room. They were bloodstained but at least one was empty, which he laid on its side and stomped on as hard as he could with the heel of his boot. It only took a couple tries to get a big crack started which he was able to force apart until he could remove a large shard. He shrugged off his flannel shirt and wrapped it around one end of the plastic shard and used the other as a crude knife to saw through first Luke’s, then Rory’s and Lulu’s zip ties. Luckily no one had taught these kids about which size zip tie is the most effective for keeping prisoners secure. “I don’t think anyone’s home,” Sam observed as he helped Rory get to her feet.

“So, what do we do? Do we just have to wait for them to come around and then just rush them?” Luke asked.

“So, Lucifer,” Rory interjected, her interest clearly peaked. “Was Lucifer a big red guy and had devil horns or was he like Vincent Price?”

Sam looked at the ceiling while he pondered Rory’s question. “Ah, more like Vincent Price mixed with _Night of the Living Dead_. But also an archangel, so ridiculously powerful and impossible to kill.” He turned to Luke. “And also, hell no, we’re getting out of here now.” He looked around the bare, windowless room. “That is, as soon as I can figure out how.”

“I sung of Chaos and Eternal Night,/ Taught by the heav'nly Muse to venture down/ The dark descent, and up to reascend...” Rory added as Sam looked around.

“What’s that?” Luke said, moving towards Lulu.

“ _Paradise Lost_ ,” Sam answered with a small smile. He patted all his pockets and frowned. “Damn it. That was my favorite lock pick kit.” He looked from Rory to Lulu. “Please tell me one of you has a bobby pin or something.”

Luke eyed Rory. “What? I haven’t worn them since High School,” Rory said softly. “I have a scrunchie…”

Sam raised an eyebrow at Rory. “A bobby pin is too retro for you but a scrunchie isn’t?”

“Well, I usually wear my hair back, I used to wear my hair with bobby pins and-wait this isn’t about my hair stylings! We have to find a way out of there.” Rory stamped her foot down, causing Lulu to stir.

“Uh, I think I do…” She weakly felt around the edges of her dress then reached her shoulders. “It’s good to keep them on you because kids will be kids.” She pulled it off and handed it to Sam. “Bobby pins are sort of a school thing.”

“See,” Rory pointed. “I did stop once I went to college… much easier to use a scrunchie.” Luke rolled his eyes as he made way for Sam

Sam examined the bobby pins in his hand and crossed the small room to the door in a pair of strides. He bent open two pins on the way and carefully chewed the plastic bulb off the ends, spitting them on the floor. He knelt at the door and assessed the lock. The usual interior door and door knob had been replaced with a security door and deadbolt, the kind typically installed on front doors in rough neighborhoods. He carefully inserted the bobby pins into the lock, manipulating the tumblers into place. It took less than a minute to get the door unlocked and luckily there wasn’t a chain on the other side. Sam eased the door open enough to poke his head out and check the hallway for their captors. Seeing none he ducked back in and said in a rough whisper, “Stay behind me and keep your eyes open, got it?”

Luke moved ahead of the women, “Let me go before you guys, or maybe I should get behind you so no one can take you without worry.” Luke looked at Sam. “Behind them?”

Sam nodded and eased into the hallway to the left. As it turned out, they were in an unfinished basement that opened up to a larger, equally empty room. A wooden staircase was situated on the far wall. Sam motioned for Luke and the girls to wait out of the direct line of sight to the door at the top of the stairs and mounted the decrepit steps. The door at the top was far less fortified than the security door downstairs and with one hand on the railing was able to kick the door in with a thunderous clatter. He silently counted to three, listening for sounds to indicate they were heard. When only the stillness of the old house met his ears, he called for the others to follow him. “Okay, I think we’re clear.”

 

*           *           *

 

“Where could they be?” Lorelai asked Dean. “They should be back now, shouldn’t they?” She was pacing in a circle around Dean, arms folded, pulling her body in.

Dean slid his cell out of his pocket and, seeing no messages from Sam called his number. It rang once and went to voicemail. He shook his head. “Yeah, I’m going after them.” He met Lorelai’s eyes. “If I ask you to wait here, will you do it?”

“Please, if Rory’s hurt, I’m gonna get Taylor to sanction a crucifixion,” Lorelai said as she stopped in front of Dean.

Dean nodded once. “Yeah, that’s a no. Thought so. Come on,” he said and headed the way Sam and Luke had gone well over an hour ago. After a block or two he threw a glance over his shoulder. “I don’t suppose you know how to handle a gun or a knife, do you?”

“I don’t cook and I live in a small Connecticut town, I don’t think we even have guns here,” Lorelai answered.

“Of course you don’t,” Dean muttered. More loudly he said, “Just stick close to me, okay?” A few bright red droplets in the snow caught Dean’s eye and he stopped abruptly and squatted on the sidewalk, squinting down a path of disturbed snow into the woods. Standing, he drew his white-handled pistol from the back of his jeans and held it safely angled toward the ground. “Whatever we find in here, keep me between you and it. Got it?”

“But what if they come from behind like all the horror movies and steal me away for their Satanic sacrifice rituals?” Lorelai responded.

Dean eyed her with a raised eyebrow. “Then duck because I’m gonna be shooting.” When Lorelai had no retort to that, he ventured into the woods, eyes scanning their surroundings. They followed an animal trail for a little more than a mile when a run-down house came into view. Dean stopped behind a tree, motioning for Lorelai to do the same. He tried calling Sam’s cell again. He heard Sam’s muffled ringtone nearby. He crouched and sifted through the snow until he found Sam’s phone, nearly smashed on a tree root. “Son of a bitch,” he breathed and shoved both phones into his coat pocket. The woods went very quiet and still for a moment, just long enough for Dean to make out loud banging coming from the house. “Sam,” he muttered. When he turned back to Lorelai it was just in time to see two smallish figures come out into the growing moonlight and, sure enough, snatch Lorelai, dragging her back and away from Dean. He raised his pistol. “Let her go!” he shouted. He only faltered for a pair of heartbeats when he realized that they were kids. They overpowered Lorelai too easily to be normal children. They held her like a human shield and there was no way he was going to get a clean shot.

“GET THESE CHILDREN OF THE CORN OFF ME, DEAN!” Lorelai shrieked, struggling against the small hands.

Dean kept his gun raised, scowling at the larger of the two. “Let her go, you son of a bitch!”

“Hunter!” The girl spat. “Our dad told us about you. He said that when we meet hunters we should kill them.”

“Yeah, you can try. Where’s my brother?”

The boy answered this time. “We’re saving him for later. It was so easy to catch him and the other guy. What idiots!”

Dean’s scowl intensified. “His pituitary gland had better still be in his head or so help me….” Lorelai flashed him a rather confused expression and Dean gave a minute shrug in reply as if to say, _Yeah, I know that sounded friggin’ crazy, but there you have it._

“Dean!” came Sam’s voice from the clearing around the house. Dean didn’t turn around but he could hear several sets of footsteps crunching in the snow toward them. “That’s them, the kitsune aren’t in the house.”

“Yeah, I got that, Sherlock. Thanks!” Dean retorted.

“Mom! Is that you!” a voice called out.

“Rory!” Lorelai yelled, her voice carrying as far as possible. She made a move toward Rory. “Are you okay?” The kitsune’s grip tightened on Lorelai, claws digging into her arm and drawing rivulets of blood.

Lorelai thrashed against the little hands holding her tightly. “Let go of me, if you prevent me from getting to my daughter… So help me!”

The older kitsune laughed, tearing into her arm further with her claws. “Yeah, whatever. Now quit squirming or I’ll kill you now.”

“Lorelai, go limp and hit the dirt!” Dean ordered.

“What? Why?!” Lorelai said, confused.

Dean sighed and rolled his eyes. “I _was_ going to shoot them in the head when you were clear but now they’re ready for it so never-friggin’-mind.” In his peripheral vision he could see Sam making his way toward the kitsune, whose attention was still trained on the gun pointed at them.

“Well, not everyone is a soldier like you!” Lorelai said, “Fine!” she pouted, going limp as she fell into the kitsune’s arms. As predicted, the older one was ready for it and braced for the extra weight. Sam had made it to striking distance by then and delivered a right hook to the kitsune’s jaw that sent her stumbling, Lorelai falling free to the snow.

“Drop!” Dean yelled and Sam threw himself over Lorelai as two shots rang out. Dean’s aim was true and both kitsune dropped to the ground in a heap, acrid smoke rising from the entry wounds in their chests. Sam stood and offered his hand to help Lorelai up.

Lorelai jumped up and ran to Rory, her daughter doing the same as her mother, arms open until they grabbed each other and held on for dear life. Lorelai crushed her daughter’s head to her chest. “I’m here Rory, don’t worry, I’m here.”

Luke dragged his feet to the women hugging in the snow. “You know I’m fine, by the way.”

“Daughter first, you know the drill.”

"Mom, you’re bleeding on me,” Rory said as she spoke from her mother’s chest. “This is weird.”

“Well, you’ve done worse to me, so suck it up,” she said, still clinging to Rory.

“I should look at that, it looks rather bad.” Luke said, pulling at one of Lorelai’s arms.       

“Wha, oh yeah.” Lorelai pulled her arms away from Rory and let Luke take them.

“Let’s go to your place and heal you up, I can call for the doctor if we need to.”

“I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Lorelai said. “Just patch me up and send me back out there.”

“You’re going to need stitches,” Dean spoke up. “Sam’s got a really steady hand with a needle if you don’t want to go to the hospital because, you know, questions. You try to explain this with anything remotely resembling the truth and they’ll lock you up until the voices stop, you know?”

“Might as well go to the hospital in Hartford, and then my mother is gonna find out and then all hell breaks loose.” She looked at Dean. “What should I tell her because she’s gonna pry… And bother the medical staff that sees me.”

“We’ve also got painkillers,” Sam chimed in.

“Yeah, or you can go with the crazy mama drama,” Dean added. “It’s your choice, really, but you’ll barely scar with a little advanced first aid. Me and Sammy’ve been patching each other up for years.”

Lorelai looked to Luke. “It’s up to you, you know your mother,” he said. Rory shrugged in agreement.

"Eh, sure,” she said with a shrug. “Let’s do it.”

“Awesome,” Dean said and Sam nodded. “You guys head on back to town and I’ll clean up here and meet up with you in a bit, okay?”

“I’ll stay here with mom, she needs my support,” Rory said looking at Lorelai.

“Don’t worry kiddo, you should probably go home and wash your hair, the hospital isn’t going to be washing my blood off you this time,” she said with a smile.

“I’ll take her,” Luke said. “We’re safe I hope, right? No more of these things? Whatever they are.”

“Kitsune,” Sam answered. “And no. They’re usually pretty solitary. You’re safe.”

Dean spread his hands in an elaborate shrug. “If you guys want to stay and help me move and burn bodies, you’re welcome to it, but believe me it’s a smell you don’t soon forget.”

“Uh, I’ll stay, Rory, you take Lulu to Kirk’s place and wash her up?” Luke turned to Dean, “I’m guessing this is one of those things that we’re not allowed to talk about unless we want to disappear?”

“No, you can talk about it. People will think you’re batshit, but knock yourself out,” Dean replied.

Luke grunted in acknowledgement and turned to the bodies while Rory put her arm around Lulu and guided her towards the town. “Still, it’d be cool if people would believe us.” Lorelai said, looking at Dean.

“People don’t believe us when monsters are literally trying to eat them. Trust me, they won’t.”

“Come on,” Sam said to the women. “Let’s get you three clean and patched up.” He motioned back through the woods the way they’d come, the sun just beginning to crest the horizon.


End file.
